


Brothers to Wolves

by Goethicite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Language, Multi, Post-Order 66, Post-The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goethicite/pseuds/Goethicite
Summary: In which Geralt of Rivia accidentally stumbles into another revolution.  Obi-Wan Kenobi needs to leave Redania before Vader realizes there's bounty hunters on this side of the ocean.  And if everyone doesn't kill each other before Vader can, it'll be a miracle.(A Witcher/Star Wars Fusion fic)
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix (Implied), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Priscilla
Comments: 37
Kudos: 150
Collections: Star Wars Big Bang 2020





	Brothers to Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an 18k fluffy bit of crossover. Then I decided I hated it and started re-writing near the beginning of April. That probably wasn't enough time.
> 
> Massive thank you to my beta ShadowSpires who saw me frantically welding whatever pieces I had together at the last minute and just went to get the angle grinder.
> 
> There are two pieces of beautiful artwork for this story by Hero_Thief. They are gorgeous, go check them out.
> 
> Special thanks to Nova, my expert on all things Kix, for rescuing our favorite medic from my first attempt to write him.
> 
> All remaining mistakes and rough edges are my own.

Geralt groaned, clutching his head. He didn’t remember much of last night, just another stupid fight with Yen, then stumbling into the Rosemary and Thyme after winning a few too many rounds of gwent at the Golden Sturgeon and not ducking fast enough in the resulting fight. There had been a mage watching Dandelion’s performance. He recalled his medallion shuddering as the man had put gentle hands on either side of his face and healed the cracked bone. Geralt had been drunk and just angry enough at Yen to smile stupidly at the mage, who’d been pretty under his tangled mess of brownish hair and overgrown beard.

They’d drunk Fiorano together, enough Zoltan was going to sigh heavily whenever he saw Geralt until Geralt took a few contracts to pay for the case. The conversation had been good, better than the mage’s battered clothing had suggested. But if he’d survived Novigrad for so long he would have been very good at appearing something he wasn’t.

Zoltan and Dandelion had poured the two of them onto one of the beds in the public rooms, both too drunk to walk anywhere. Which was shocking now that Geralt was sober enough to think about it. Even a mage couldn’t drink like a witcher. Geralt rolled over, curious about exactly who his new friend was, to find himself alone on the stinking mattress. Also, his steel sword was missing.

“What…” Before Geralt could formulate a coherent thought beyond the spike of anger the door to the public room flew open with a bang. Four men, tall, dressed in eerie white plate armor that gleamed like glass stormed into the room. The armor was a design Geralt didn’t recognize. The pearlescent white plate was molded to fit close to the soldiers’ bodies with small gaps at the joints and other flex points, revealing flashes of the black cloth they wore underneath the armor. Their helmets covered most of their faces, with only a sharp-edged, T-shaped opening in the front for their eyes and showing a sliver of the black, silk masks that covered them from the top of the nose down into the gorget.

Normally, Geralt would have rolled over and gone back to sleep since they didn’t seem interested in any of the locals. Except the man who seemed to be in charge had golden eyes with vertical slit pupils like a cat’s. Even stranger, the soldier checking the bed next to Geralt’s also had a Witcher’s eyes. It was odd enough Geralt sat up, which caused all four heads to turn towards them. Despite the low light, Geralt could see all their eyes were a match for his own. They were all Witchers.

The leader looked at him for a long moment then spoke in a language Geralt didn’t recognize. Two of the men seized Geralt and their plate gauntlets dug in with the strength of other witchers, not something Geralt could get free of easily. Geralt was marched out of the room, down the stairs to the Rosemary’s main room. Another five soldiers in white armor were waiting. Four were checking the patrons in the taproom. The fifth was speaking to Dandelion.

Unlike the others, the soldier speaking to Dandelion had a single red sigil on his right pauldron painted onto the pearlescent plate. A vicious looking scar, just visible in the slit of his visor, started at his hairline, circled the outside of his right eye, before disappearing under the edge of his mask.

The leader of the little squad who’d captured Geralt barked out some more foreign words. The soldier with the painted pauldron (an officer?) turned.

“ _Haar’chuk_ , there’s a brother here?” he said flatly, his accent curling strangely around the words in a way that didn’t immediately call to mind anywhere Geralt was familiar with. He turned to Dandelion, golden eyes narrow. “There was another with this man last night, a mage. Where did he go? And don’t lie to me. I can smell healing magic.”

“The asshole stole my sword,” Geralt snapped, drawing the soldier’s attention away from the nervous bard. “I suppose I have all of you to thank for that. Who the fuck are you?” They were, all nine of them, witchers. It was more of his kind in one place than Geralt had seen since the pogroms.

The soldier let out a sharp breath that was probably a silent chuckle. “Cody, Commander of Lord Vader’s honor guard and officer in the Imperial Army of the Republic. You are…” he frowned groping for a word that he couldn’t quite remember, “ _vhattgern_?” he finally settled on.

Elvish wasn’t the language Geralt expected the stranger to land on as a common tongue, but it worked. “Yes, I’m a witcher. I’m more curious how the hell all of you are.”

“All soldiers in Lord Vader’s legions are brothers,” the soldier replied, which wasn’t really an answer. “The mage who healed you, was it this man?” He held out a sheet of vellum with a beautiful ink portrait of a young man with wide eyes and an easy smile. Colored chalks had been smudged into some of the outlines to give a sense of color. Pale skin, red hair, blue eyes. Pile a couple years of hard living and not enough food onto the picture and it would have been a ringer for the mage from the night before.

Geralt looked straight into the other witcher’s eyes. “Never seen him before in my life.”

There were several poorly stifled snickers from the other soldiers. Cody actually closed his eyes looking like a put upon mother. “His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi” Cody said after taking a moment to gather himself. “He was a general in the Republican army. Then he proved himself a liar, thief, and traitor. I’m well aware of his skill with words, but whatever sob story he tried to feed you he was lying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geralt said, this time telling the absolute truth. Most of what he remembered from his conversation with the mage the night before had been their discussion of how exactly ‘The Secret Life of Giant Centipedes’ was a work which had come into existence. The mage had been sure there were psychedelics involved while Geralt had been lobbying for a group effort by the inmates of an asylum somewhere.

“Oh do leave the poor man alone, Cody,” the mage drawled with court perfect elocution. He stood in a corner which had once been empty, with Geralt’s sword slung over his shoulder. The greasy mess his hair had been the night before was gone, as were his battered leather doublet and once black leggings gone gray. Instead he sported a coppery red fringe of hair which he pushed out of his eyes as he spoke and foreign style tunics made of cream colored silk. He gave the startled soldiers a smile that was all teeth, then ran in three different directions at once. All three of the identical men, simulacra of some kind, passed through the walls of the Rosemary and Thyme as Geralt’s medallion rattled against his jerkin with the amount of magic being thrown around.

The soldiers were shouting in their own tongue, piling through the door after the illusions. So maybe they knew something about this mage’s spells Geralt didn’t. But they didn’t know that Geralt and the mage had drunk enough Fiorano twelve sixty-two the night before to fill a bathing tub. If Geralt was still sweating it out so was the mage, and the empty corner reeked of blackberries, plums, and body odor.

Geralt stumbled over the locking chest behind the bar where Zoltan statshed his things when he was on a bender and dug out the Eye of Nehaleni. He passed the Eye over the empty corner revealing the mage who looked even worse than the night before. His tangled hair, actually red made dark by grease and dirt, was pulled back tightly with a leather thong, and his blue eyes were red-rimmed with too much alcohol and not enough sleep.

“Well,” the mage said. His fingers were white knuckled around the hilt of Geralt’s sword, which hung from the belt around his waist. “That was unexpected. Some kind of banishing spell keyed to an object? Clever.” He wore the same old doublet and leggings as last night, and his beard was long and unkempt instead of the neat goatee of the illusion.

“It’s too early for this shit.” Geralt rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Zoltan, shoot him if he moves funny.”

Zoltan, who’d been crouched behind the bar with a crossbow popped up with the weapon leveled at the mage. “It would be my pleasure, laddy,” he growled glaring at the source of their troubles.

“You in one piece, Dandelion?” Geralt demanded grabbing the bard by the shoulders and looking him over as he recalled the quietly menacing air of the officer who’d been questioning him. “They keep it to words?”

Dandelion was still subdued, badly shaken by the invasion of the place that was usually his safe haven. “They said they’d hurt Priscilla if I called for help,” he said apologetically. “Or well, they implied they would. Sorry, Geralt. That’s why I didn’t wake you immediately. We were taking a nap between sets and one of them kicked my leg.”

Dandelion and Priscilla often played through the night to draw in the extra coin of drunks who needed somewhere warm to sober up before going home. On those nights they slept on the small stage in the corner between sets while Zoltan manned the bar. “Where is she?” Geralt demanded since the pretty, blonde troubadour was nowhere to be seen.

“Here,” Priscilla said, voice rasping from stress. She’d been crouched behind the bar with Zoltan. “I… I started crying. So they let me stay with Zoltan.” Her physical recovery from the attack that had nearly killed her was complete, but the steely-eyed young woman who’d greeted Geralt when he’d first come to Novigrad was still more brittle than any of them were comfortable with.

“Zoltan, I’m taking Dandelion, Priscilla, and our new friend over to Yen’s. Are you comfortable staying here?” Geralt said, pulling on the gear he’d left in the chest and slinging Roach’s saddlebags over his shoulder.

Zoltan patted Priscilla’s shoulder gently. “I can handle the bastards if they come back, Geralt. You best get our songbirds somewhere safe.”

The mage delicately cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose I get a say in this?” he asked mildly.

Geralt glared at him. “Or I can run you through and hand over your corpse to your white-armored friends. Give me my damn sword.”

The mage hesitated and Geralt put a hand on the hilt of his silver sword sticking out of the saddlebags. Going against a steel sword would damage the blade, but Geralt was confident he could handle the mage. While every last one of them was dangerous, Villgefortz had been the only one Geralt had ever met who knew anything about bladework. Even then, he’d still relied on his magic more than the blade itself, which was why Villgefortz was dead and Geralt wasn’t.

Reluctantly, the mage detached the sword and sheath from his belt. “Very well. Just so you’re aware, only one of my simulacrum has yet to be caught, and Fives is very close to succeeding.”

Geralt snatched his sword back. “Then we better not be here when they get back. I don’t have to tell you not to run, right? Because then I will have to chase you and I don’t give a damn what happens to you after I catch you.”

The mage pursed his lips but nodded in acceptance. “I understand.”

Yen was not happy to see Geralt, and was gearing up to continue their argument, but deflated when she saw him help Priscilla down from Roach’s back, followed by Dandelion. “Not that I’m not pleased to see both of you,” Yen said embracing Priscilla and putting a fond hand on Dandelion’s arm, “but what on earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the Rosemary and Thyme preparing for the lunch crowd?”

“We had some unwelcome visitors,” Prisicilla said her voice cracking slightly as stress tugged on her damaged vocal chords. “Geralt brought us here to keep us out of the way.”

Geralt shoved the mage forward with a hand on the back of the man’s neck. He probably knew enough about witchers to recognize the threat. “Woke up this morning to nine foreign witchers in the taproom. They were looking for this bastard.”

“Nine. What school?” Yennefer said, not able to conceal her shock. Witchers were a dying breed.

“No medallions. I was planning on asking him.” Geralt shook the mage in his grip before shoving him past Yennefer into her townhouse. “The witchers threatened Priscila and Dandelion. Zoltan’s got the cabaret locked down.”

Yennefer’s violet eyes narrowed as she put an arm around Priscilla while her other hand locked around Dandelion’s wrist. “Get him inside,” she ordered. “He’ll talk, or I’ll rip the words out of him.”

Geralt knew better than to let the mage touch any of Yennefer’s furniture. She’d sacrificed one chair and an end table so Geralt would have somewhere to sit while in armor and clean his weapons, but he knew better than to let a stranger use it. Instead he shoved the mage down onto Yennefer’s least favorite rug. “Stay there or we’ll find out if I can cut your throat faster than Yennefer can turn you into a frog.”

The mage pulled his legs in tailor style settling his hands on his knees. “As you wish, Sir Geralt.”

Dandelion and Priscilla shared one of the low couches, having been supplied by Yennefer with medicinal goblets of Toussaint wine. Yennefer had wine as well but she looked far more interested in the mage. “You do realize there are no more witchhunters. You don’t have to smell like a stable,” she informed him as she circled around him like a wolf considering a tethered goat.

“It’s not the witchhunters I’m hiding from.” The mage’s eyes were closed and he might as well have been a noble enjoying the sunshine in his private garden.

“You’re not from the Brotherhood.” Yennefer sniffed, grimacing as she caught more than magic on the air. “Why can’t I read you?”

The mage smiled slightly. “I have some experience keeping more powerful mages out of my head.”

“You’re too powerful to be some hedge witch, and your ears aren’t pointed enough for elven blood. Nilfgaardian? But your accent’s wrong.” Yennefer considered him finger tapping her bottom lip.

“A little further than that,” the mage offered obliging.

Geralt held out the ink sketch he’d lifted off the witcher officer to the sorceress. “The guy in charge called him Obi-Wan Kenobi. He said they were ‘imperial’, but Imperial Army of the Republic, so not Nilfgaardian.”

“What’s this language? I don’t recognize it.” Geralt looked over Yennefer’s shoulder at the curly script on the drawing.

Dandelion cleared his throat. “Can I, Yen?” He took the drawing, examining the text. He had the most formal education of all of them, even Yennefer, and the most linguistic experience. “It might be Aurebesh? It’s the language in the far west across the sea on the other side of Offeri.”

“Impressive.” The mage, Kenobi, opened his eyes. “It is indeed Aurebesh. I was raised in Coruscant, the capital of the former Republic. The men who hunt me are from the empire which took its place.”

“That’s a long way to follow you. Who did you fuck?” Geralt demanded, already feeling his stomach sinking. He should just have handed the man over to the strange witchers.

Kenobi actually barked out a laugh before he caught himself. “The order of which I was a part of discouraged that kind of thing, Sir Geralt. My order, the Jedi Order, were declared traitors during the coup in which the Republic fell. I am one of a handful of survivors, and one of two high councillors to escape the purge. Master Yoda is no doubt beyond the empire’s reach in Dol Blathanna with his people. Making me the last Jedi Councillor still living the empire could capture.”

“Did you do it?” Kenobi didn’t react to Geralt’s question but he didn’t respond either. “It’s an easy question. Did you and your people do it?”

There was a flicker of anger quickly quashed back to bemused calm before Kenobi spoke. “No. We were not traitors. And even if some of us were, there is no justification for burning our temples with our elders inside or slaughtering our younglings in their cribs. Those we loved and tried to protect betrayed us.” His hand moved up brushing along the side of his bearded jaw before dropping back into his lap. Despite Kenobi’s best efforts Geralt could see the tension in the mage’s shoulders, and practically smell the pain underneath the stink of a body gone too long unwashed.

Priscilla had a horrified hand over her mouth. Dandelion was pale as parchment. Yennefer looked at Geralt then spat out a virulent curse. She knew him well enough to see that he believed Kenobi. “These witcher soldiers, they’re from the empire?” she demanded.

“They were soldiers of the Republic first. It was their betrayal that was the end of my people.” Kenobi’s self-control wasn’t good enough to stop the buzz of ozone from rising off his skin. “They serve as the Emperor’s attack dogs these days. And where they are, Lord Vader isn’t far behind. I have a strong preference to be far from here before Vader comes looking.”

“So they are witchers,” Priscilla said while Yennefer puzzled over the name ‘Vader’. “Like Geralt? Just from far away.”

Kenobi hesitated but reluctantly shook his head. “I don’t believe they have much in common with Sir Geralt beyond their eyes and certain modifications to their genes. They were bred to be soldiers, not protectors. They know nothing but war and killing.” Geralt could hear regret in the last sentence, smell the sour distress of old pain, but Kenobi didn’t elaborate.

“I’m sure it’s been very difficult for you.” Yennefer put her goblet down glancing over at the bards. “However, I see no reason not to give you to this ‘Lord Vader’. His men have already threatened my friends, and I care not a whit that you ended up on the wrong side of politics.”

“You would give me to the man that committed the genocide of my people.” Kenboi didn’t seem surprised by the callous suggestion, just resigned.

Priscilla looked reprovingly at Yennefer. “Surely we can’t, Yen.”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes, putting a hand on Geralt’s arm. “I think we’ve all had enough of politics for quite awhile.” Dijkstra had been declared the author of Radovid’s death with Geralt, Roche, and Ves as unwitting pawns just trying to survive. None of the rumors mentioned Phillipa Eilhart at all. Emhyr’s spies had been very thorough. However, with Cirilla having taken her place at her birth father’s side Geralt hadn’t been able to avoid the political spotlight, and not everyone was happy to have become Nilfgaardian citizens. Geralt and Yennefer, the foster parents of the new empress-to-be, were targets.

“I don’t think it will end as neatly as you wish. Lord Vader is not a sane man.” Kenobi opened his eyes. “Though I believe you’re about to find out for yourselves.”

There was a metallic boom followed by the warmer crack of wood as something huge beat on the door in a mockery of a polite request for entrance. Geralt reached for his steel sword. Yennefer bared her teeth. The air buzzed with power. No medallion was needed to sense the gathering storm.

Geralt reached out, putting a hand on Yennefer’s arm. If they were still and quiet the predator might leave. In a townhouse with no fucking space to swing a dead cat let alone a sword, a fight was bad. The presence of two relatively helpless human bards and a strange, possibly hostile mage, made this the worst case scenario.

Smoke wreathed Yennefer’s face as she breathed out angry little snorts of air. Geralt pursed his lips and whistled softly. The column of warm air turned into a jet of white as soon as it left his lips. Fine tremors shook Yennefer’s whole body; less from the sudden cold than the memories of outrunning merciless frost with howling drawing ever closer.

There was a crystalline pop from down the stairs, followed by the sound of crashing glass. In the sudden silence which followed there was a raspy intake of breath that didn’t sound human. The sound of multiple sets of boots on the stairs did nothing to drown out the eerie breathing. Rather than the door bursting open there was a much more normal knock. “General Kenobi, its Commander Cody. Lord Vader sent me to negotiate. This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

Kenobi’s hand curled into fist. “Now’s your chance to sell me out,” he informed Yennefer like he was telling a joke.

“Let them in Geralt,” Yennefer said, refusing to back down.

There were two of the white-armored witchers at the door. They were both carrying their helms under one arm, revealing that the black masks they wore underneath only covered their faces from neck to nose, leaving their ears and hair uncovered. One of them had a headful of short, black curls which were shiny with sweat. The other had blonde hair cropped close to his scalp which didn’t seem natural for his coloring. Both sported red paint on their pauldrons. The blond had two long daggers on his hips and what looked like some kind of collapsible halberd on his back. The one with curly, black hair had a longsword and a crossbow with metal arms which was probably too stiff for a normal human to draw.

The black and curly one nodded respectfully to Geralt, leading his friend into the room. “General,” he said calmly, looking down at Kenobi, “you look like shit.”

“A knife to the throat and a life on the run will do that to a man.” Kenobi didn’t make any move to stand looking up at the man. “Do me the courtesy of not hiding your faces. You owe me that much.”

The two strange witchers glanced at each other then reached up in unison, pulling their silk masks to hang at their throats. Dandelion made a noise and Priscilla’s eyes went very wide. It took Geralt a moment to see what they were reacting to. Despite the differences in hair color, and the different facial scars, the two men could have been twins. Except Geralt had known enough twins to know these two were something odder, even without their split-pupil, golden eyes.

“Come quietly, sir,” the blond said with startling gentleness. “We won’t harm anyone else.”

Kenobi smiled and there was nothing warm in it. “I should let you lead me quietly to my death like a lamb to the butcher’s block?”

“Of course not, sir,” Black and Curly snapped. “Lord Vader is willing to forgive you if you make the effort. Come home, sir. You can be forgiven.” He reached down cupping Kenobi’s face with real tenderness. “The war is over, Obi-Wan.”

“If it was, Vader wouldn’t be here.” Kenboi sighed. “Very well. I will not fight as long as these good people aren’t harmed. Is that a sufficient promise, my dear commander?” He took Black and Curly’s hand letting the taller man pull him to his feet. The movement was as natural as breathing for the two of them.

Black and Curly kept hold of Kenobi’s wrist. “It’ll do for now.”

“Then you’ll forgive me.” Kenobi darted forward. At first, Geralt thought he was biting Black and Curly’s face. They were kissing, blue light shining out of both of their mouths. Black and Curly went down hard, his helm falling to the floor. Blondie had to catch his friend, which freed Kenobi to throw out his hand, shouting the words of a spell. The air tore open and cold rushed back in. Someone had cast an illusion, covered by the distraction of the two witchers entering the room, concealing more white armored witchers and massive dark figure in full plate armor holding a stick made of red light.

Yennefer shrieked, throwing a handful of fire at the black knight with the strange, red stick. The stick swung towards Yennefer so Geralt stepped forward with his sword already unsheathed to block the blow. The red light sheared right through the blade. It would have gone through Geralt and then Yennefer as well if Yennefer hadn’t punched out with a pulse of raw magic throwing the black-armored warrior backwards.

Kenobi was between them and the black knight in a flash of blue and brown. In his hand was a silver tube from which emitted a beam of blue light just like the black knight’s red light. “Lady Yennefer,” Kenobi barked blocking the black knight’s ferocious overhand blows with smooth deflections, “you need to leave now!”

Shaking off the last numbing effects of the spell which had held them all in thrall, Yennefer clapped her hands together, snapping out the words as she pulled them apart to open a portal on the far side of the room. “Go!” she shouted to Dandelion and Priscilla, who didn’t have to be told twice. Both bards dived through without hesitation.

Geralt should have gone next but had engaged Blondie with the remaining eight inches of his steel sword. Blondie had both daggers out, trying to hamstring Kenobi without getting sliced up by either the red or blue light. Without the room to work, with a style which obviously required space to mount an attack, Kenobi had been forced to fall back into a defensive stance, blocking both the black knight and Blondie.

Snarling, Geralt hit Blondie with an _aard,_ coming in swinging pommel first for the unprotected head. Blondie didn’t so much duck as bend backwards just beyond the blow in a move Geralt had only seen from his brother witchers. Black and Curly was still conscious, shouting angry curses in a foreign language from where he was curled up against the wall carefully keeping out of the way of the fighting. His eyes were running until tears flowed down his face as he wiped at them like he was trying to clear off mud. Geralt only had half a heartbeat to confirm Black and Curly was out of the fight before Blondie came in low, slashing at Geralt’s knees.

It was a feint, and when Geralt kicked towards Blondie’s face he had to quickly bring his severed blade across his body to block the dagger aimed for his stomach. Then block again to keep the tip of one viciously sharp blade from finding that soft place at the shoulder joint of Geralt’s armor. Geralt took advantage of Blondie’s extension to punch the other witcher in the face, knuckles impacting the sharp check bone. If they had been merely human both would be sporting broken bones with the force of the blow. Instead, Blondie let the momentum of the blow carry him into a roll. The fabric around his waist, open at the front like half a knee-length skirt, thudded against his thigh plates as the armored cloth settled back into place.

Geralt swung low, trying to slash with what was left of his sword blade. Blondie caught the blow on crossed daggers, jaw tight as Geralt gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and pushed down, trying to break Blondie’s guard with brute strength.

A pale hand, with neat, lacquered nails snaked around Geralt’s body. Blondie’s eyes went wide as he pushed himself backwards, barely dodging Yennefer’s spell. The sorceress caught Geralt by the pauldron before he could follow Blondie. “Time to go.”

Kenobi was locked in an awkward battle with the black knight, dodging blows from the red light which sank deep into the floor leaving char and fire behind. Impatiently, Yennefer followed Geralt’s gaze. “Oh very well. Kenobi, down!”

Wisely, Kenobi went up instead, kicking off into a high backflip which would put the most athletic witcher to shame. Beneath his feet the floor came up, carried on an invisible wave of force, the wood rippling and buckling. The wave hit the black knight and Blondie, throwing them backwards.

Geralt grabbed Kenobi out of the air. They were about the same size, but the mage was skin and bones from long years of deprivation, and magic was no substitute for witcher mutations. A shot of _igni_ made a nice barrier to keep the black knight and Blondie back when Geralt turned his back on them, dropping his ruined sword and wrapping his newly freed arm around Yennefer’s waist. He carried both mages through the portal in three long strides.

They were in front of the Rosemary and Thyme, which was too close to the black knight and his strange witchers for Geralt’s taste, but had the upside of having a few of his spare weapons in the attic.

“You need to run,” Kenobi gasped coughing as Geralt’s shoulder dug into his stomach. “Vader can track portals. You have to go on foot as quickly as you can. I’ll try to lead them away.”

“The hell you will,” Yennefer snarled. “What was that thing! It was a golem, but not. And the chaos…”

Kenobi wiggled free of Geralt’s grip, landing lightly on his feet. “That, my lady, was a Sith lord. A mage who has let chaos control them and consume their soul.”

Yennefer shook her head in denial. “That’s self-righteous bullshit. Magic isn’t real. Not like that.”

“And yet you saw Lord Vader. Now, please, if you have horses it would be best. Vader and his men will most likely leave you alone if we run in opposite directions.” The quality of the air around them changed, growing charged like the moment before a lightning strike. A portal opened and three of the white-armored witchers spilled out. Based on the twin daggers the one in the lead was Blondie. The two men with him were both carrying versions of the collapsible halberds fully extended to an eight foot length. They also both had small glass and metal bombs full of iridescent green powder. Before Geralt could shout a warning the air was filled with dimeritium flakes.

Yennefer shrieked as the lavender energy gathering around her hands flickered out of existence. Kenobi’s noise of pain was muffled by his clenched teeth, but he didn’t look any better. Geralt reached for the hilt of his steel sword to find nothing. Then Priscilla shouted from the balcony overlooking the street. “Geralt! Catch!”

She heaved a sword over the side as Dandelion hurled more dimeritium bombs down to keep any more portals from opening in the area. It was Iris. The heavy offeri saber was more suited to face the halberds than the Griffin school style hand and half sword which the black knight had ruined. Geralt bared his teeth at the witchers, holding the saber in a low guard. Then he was dodging for his life.

Blondie was a nightmare on his own, with his pair of daggers constantly testing the weak points of Geralt’s armor. However, Geralt didn’t dare try to make space for himself since a halberd was waiting for him every time he disengaged. Blondie jumped, feinting with his daggers before trying to land a kick on Geralt’s side. Geralt rolled out of the way and nearly impaled himself on a halberd.

The halberd had been knocked away by another long sword. Kenobi had gotten Priscilla to toss down another weapon, the elven style blade Hattori had just made Geralt. Kenobi wielded the weapon like one of the _Aen Sidhe_ in defensive arcs, moving like a dancer. Yennefer had drawn her dagger and was circling the outside of the fight, forcing one of the halberd wielders to keep driving her back as she darted in to stab at gaps in the soldiers’ armor.

Geralt would already be dead if Kenobi and Yennefer weren’t capable fighters in their own right. They weren’t able defeat their opponents but could keep them from focusing on Geralt until he, theoretically, defeated his own opponent. The problem was that Blondie was just as good as Geralt, possibly even better. Despite the greater reach of his saber, Geralt was on the defensive as the strange witcher didn’t so much break his guard as dodge into it. The twin daggers were drawing more blood than Geralt was comfortable with. If they had been coated with something Geralt would already be dead.

“Fall back,” Geralt barked as he finally managed to catch one of the daggers between his arm and his side. He had to twist his arm awkwardly so the blade caught on armor rather cutting into him. Still, throwing his body sideways jerked the hilt out of Blondie’s hand. Geralt immediately dropped the dagger, catching it in his own hand before hurling it up to sink into one of the exposed wooden beams on the Rosemary’s facade. Geralt didn’t want to risk Blondie catching it if he tried to throw it at him. The bastard was demon enough to manage it.

Kenobi and Yennfer actually listened, falling back to the door of the Rosemary. The two halberd wielders hung back, flanking Blondie, who advanced slowly as Geralt retreated. Except Geralt wasn’t planning on making a stand. Dandelion had been throwing the dimeritium bombs past the white armored witchers. He knew better than to throw them near friendly mages.

Geralt ducked as Yennefer and Kenobi shouted in unison, knocking all three white-armored witchers to the ground. Kenobi shouted again as another portal opened up. Long, black roils of smoke like tentacles emerged, wrapping around the three white-armored men. Kenobi lunged past Geralt, grabbing Blondie and dragging him out of reach of the smoke tentacles as the other two were hauled through the portal. His hair had come loose from its tie, the grimy strands falling across into his face, sticking to his chapped lips as he barked something in a dialect of elvish Geralt didn’t recognize. The portal closed with a pop.

Blondie groaned ,reaching up to grab Kenobi’s wrist only to be smacked right in the face with a powerful sleeping hex. “What are you doing!” Yennefer shrieked. She had one hand clamped over a wound on her thigh.

“Information,” Kenobi snarled back. “Don’t try another portal. Vader will be able to track it. We need horses.” He heaved Blondie at Geralt. “Cuff him, tie him up, just make sure you slow him down before he wakes up.” Then he walked over and pushed Yennefer’s hand away from her leg. Before she could fry him for his insolence, he slapped his own palm over the seeping wound and spoke two words. When he pulled his hand away the flesh underneath was unmarred. Even the blood had vanished.

Yennefer blinked then growled, “You are teaching me that spell, Kenobi.”

“I’d be happy to. Once we’re very far from here.” Kenobi tied what looked like a handkerchief around the wound on his own arm. “You must run. Vader is not the sort to accept wrong-place, wrong-time as an explanation.”

“We figured,” Geralt growled. “You owe us an explanation, Kenobi.”

* * *

They had four horses between them. Obi-Wan was told he was sharing with the sorceress both because Geralt, in his armor, was the heaviest in their party and so he couldn’t try to run. Not that Obi-Wan was interested in running. They were headed south, and south was where he needed to be as quickly as possible.

Rex was slung over the saddle of the beast acting as the packhorse, hands and feet bound together and elbows and knees bound to the saddle in case he woke up. The hex he’d used was actually a spell to induce healing sleep. He’d used it on his troopers many times during the war. Rex would sleep well into the next day even without refreshing the spell.

“How did this Vader follow my portal?” The sorceress in front of him demanded. Yennefer craned her neck uncomfortably just to glare at him. “Are you being tracked somehow?”

“No. If I was, I would already be dead. Vader has a… knack for knowing what connections portals are making. After a day or two, he generally can’t follow. However, he’s used to hunting other mages and is extremely adept at tracking portal jumps.” Obi-Wan tried not to react to the energy crackling just above Yennefer’s skin. She was upset and felt no need to conceal it. The energy grounded itself in Obi-Wan. Long practice at dispersing his apprentice’s outbursts made the transfer instinctive.

Yennefer did not appreciate his consideration in preventing her bad mood from spooking their mount. “Stop fucking evading.”

Obi-Wan bit back a catty retort. He’d heard the stories of Yennefer of Vengerberg, including how mercurial she could be. The bards always lied, at least they had in the songs about him, but there was no smoke without some flame. “I don’t know precisely how Vader does it. You’re welcome to ask him yourself.”

“And your witchers. It seems excessive to…” Yennefer paused searching for the most plausible explanation. “It seems excessive to waste so much power to alter them cosmetically.”

“They weren’t altered.” Obi-Wan glanced over at the man who he’d once trusted with the lives of the people he loved most. “Our troopers were born with their mutations. They’re created beings, clones of a warrior chieftain from the high mountains whose genes were modified with witcher genes in a dish. The two men we were fighting, Rex and Cody, were decanted two days apart already developed enough to walk.”

Yennefer vibrated with demands for more information, but it was one of the bards, a man in eye-searingly pink crushed velvet, who said, “These men who are hunting you. They were your friends.”

“Some. Killing a mage is difficult even for a witcher. Killing a Jedi… Until the war most would have said it was impossible. I hunted Sith, mages like Vader, and my men, my friends, hunted with me.” Obi-Wan gestured at Rex. “This man, Captain Rex, was commander of my apprentice’s battalion and bodyguard to my grand-padawan, my apprentice’s apprentice. On the day of the coup he tried to kill the girl he’d sworn on his brothers’ lives to protect, and stood by while Vader destroyed my apprentice. I want to know why. And I want to know why Vader is suddenly preaching forgiveness.”

They rode through the night, single file with Geralt leading the way. Yennefer had questions but seemed willing to hold off on further interrogation in favor of covering ground. Having dealt with the Redianian witcherhunters whose religious fervor had filled Novigrad with pyres fueled by mages and non-humans, she had no desire to be caught out by former professional Sith-killers.

When they finally made camp near a rather pretty waterfall, Obi-Wan let himself breathe out. Cody’s eyes, golden and disappointed, haunted him. His clothes, sweated through and stinking of horse, itched like he’d have to peel his skin off to be clean again. His troopers had been religious about hygiene as a rule. Witcher senses lead to a fondness for soap and water which Obi-Wan had appreciated. Cody was even more fastidious than most, following Obi-Wan’s own inclinations. Even Rex had sported the occasional stubble in the field while Cody was always meticulously clean shaven. He’d used the same kit Obi-Wan kept on him at all times to maintain his goatee.

Obi-Wan’s goatee was a ragged beard he kept trimmed with a belt knife. He hadn’t cut his hair in months, not since the last time it got caught on some branches. It hadn’t mattered. Not until Cody had looked straight at him with palpable confusion. It was ridiculous to feel hurt that the man who’d dragged a dagger across his throat didn’t immediately recognize him.

“Hey Kenobi!” Geralt was securing Rex to a tree with what looked like wire core ropes. “Did you curse him?”

“No. It’s magically induced but the sleep is natural. Why?” Obi-Wan hurried over, half-afraid the spell had misfired somehow and caused harm.

Geralt finished securing Rex’s arms. “Because my medallion started rattling when I took him off the horse. And you and Yen haven’t been tossing around enough magic for it to notice. Could it be his armor?”

“No. This plate is barely worth the name, just hardened ceramic.” Obi-Wan hovered a hand over Rex, trying to sense whatever Geralt was. There was a sense of something almost oily in the air, but there was no definite shape to the magic. It could just as easily be the lingering effect of standing too near Vader and his poor control. “Are you sure?”

Geralt gave him an unimpressed look so like Cody’s that Obi-Wan flinched before he could control himself. The pale witcher subtly moved back to give Obi-Wan more space, face settling into the blank expression that seemed to be his default. “Pretty sure. Cursebreaking is part of the profession.”

“Curse?” Obi-Wan frowned looking down at Rex. Jedi training focused mostly on healing and combat with some of the more eccentric Jedi specializing in alchemy or over combinations of technology and magic. Obi-Wan’s formal training was as a naturalist and diplomat. He’d picked up most of his skill at healing as a side-effect of his tumultuous apprenticeship. The combat magic he was known for was a different story. But nothing in his training had touched on curses. They were rare in the Republic and the domain of specialists like Count Dooku, his grandmaster and traitor.

Yennefer snorted. “What? Were your instructors too good to teach you about such things?”

Geralt sighed heavily. “Yen, do you mind? If this guy is cursed then we could be in for more trouble than we’re prepared to handle.”

Yennefer gave Obi-Wan a gorgeous smile that was all teeth. “I know your kind… What did you call yourself, Jedi? You fear those more powerful than you so you demonize and belittle them. And now you’ve set a madman on us. I’m not inclined to aid you.” Obi-Wan winced at the echo of his old apprentice in her words.

“He’s not asking for help, Yen. You heard him. This guy killed his people. I’m asking you to help me save a brother witcher,” Geralt said sharply, cutting through the rising ozone. “Nine witchers, Yen. Without Vesemir, there’s three of us left. The Griffin and Bear schools are gone. There’s only a handful of Cats and us. We need them.”

The two bards had tucked themselves behind the sorceress as soon as the snarling started. Yennefer had one arm slightly behind her urging them to stay back, out of her line of fire. “I think, maybe,” the man said gingerly, reaching out to take the hand of the blonde woman at his side, “we all need to take a deep breath first. Kenobi’s witcher friend is going to be asleep for a while. We can… make camp, brew tea,” he eyed Yennefer, “with whiskey. Lots of whiskey. And then, maybe, we can talk about the fact that witchers can be twins. Because honestly, that’s both confusing and terrifying to me.”

“Yes,” the woman said with forced brightness, “that would be good. And maybe we can find a way to help Captain Rex if he is cursed. If nothing else, I know Geralt would like a break from clearing out the drowners in the sewers once a week by himself.” She tried to make it sound like a joke but power crackling off Yennefer’s skin muffled it somehow.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, making an effort to rein in his own power, pulling the ripples of heat back under his skin. “Clones, not twins. Genetic replicas created artificially.” He brought his hands together in front of him pressing the palms together at chest height before bowing to Yennefer. “My apologies, Lady Yennefer, for any offence I have given. I could not have faced Vader without your aid. I would be grateful if you could share your knowledge, for Captain Rex’s sake if not my own.”

The blonde bard put her hand on Yennefer’s arm coaxingly. “The more we find out about this Vader fellow the easier it’ll be for Geralt to gut him. Then we can all go home.”

Yennefer considered the option then sniffed. “Fine. If this is a curse then I’d be better equipped to help the poor man anyways.”

It was a curse. Even worse, it was a demonic curse. Yennefer’s clear-seeing spell made it obvious even to Obi-Wan’s untrained senses. The Jedi didn’t broker with demons. Doing so would get you kicked out of the Order. It was a cultural norm, with all the associated fear of violation, that left a giant blindspot Obi-Wan had just seen into.

Yennefer knew a lot about demons. Enough that she had never sought them out as a means to power and laughed in Obi-Wan’s face when he pointed out not everyone was so wise. The key was fire and blood of course. It was a demon-made curse so the unbinding had to be just as unpleasant as the curse itself. Obi-Wan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but he waved Yennefer off when she offered to attempt it on Rex. Her knowledge of dark magics was much greater than Obi-Wan’s own. However, he wasn’t about to let any other mage light Rex on fire.

Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate, yanking off Rex’s helmet and pulling down his mask. He tried not to think about the unmarked white surface of the helmet. The bastards had taken Rex’s jaig eyes. Rex blinked uncertainly, staring up at Obi-Wan without recognition. The sleeping hex tended to have the effect of a heavy sedative. He didn’t fight as Obi-Wan painted the mixture of blood and herb infused oil in perpendicular patterns against the dark curse marks which had risen to the surface in the moonlight in answer to Yennefer’s chanting.

When the counter-spell was marked onto Rex’s face, Obi-Wan breathed the words that would free the man from demonic influence. Then he touched the oil and blood mixture so the mixture flamed up for just an instant leaving only small, red burns behind. Rex stopped breathing.

“No,” Obi-Wan breathed, swallowing down his panic. “No, you will not die, soldier.” Not Rex, not his grand-padawan’s dearest friend. Before he had to do anything drastic, Rex inhaled sharply, his golden eyes flashing in panic.

“Soka!” Obi-Wan threw himself on top of Rex to keep the man from springing to his feet and trying to run towards a young woman who wasn’t there. “Sir,” Rex barked near panicked, “sir, I need to get to the commander!” Get the fuck off me was what he wouldn’t say, too well trained.

Obi-Wan put a hand on Rex’s shoulder forcing the other man down. “Ahsoka is fine, Captain,” he said firmly. “But she is very far from here. Do you remember the last time you saw her?”

Rex scowled but obediently calmed down and tried to think. Obi-Wan kept him pinned, waiting for the moment he remembered the swing of a blade that had nearly bisected the young woman he’d been responsible for. Rex went the same color as his hair as he recalled the day of the coup. “Sir, I didn’t mean… How can she be alive?”

“She used a stasis spell on the wound and portalled directly to me after casting the sleeping hex. I was able to heal her. She’s alive Rex. Both Ahsoka and Lady Padme live.” Obi-Wan finally dared to loosen his grip on the soldier, helping the larger man sit up.

The blond moved slowly staring blankly at his unmarked vambraces like he didn’t recognize them. “But, the general, Lord Vader. General Kenobi, what the hell happened?” Rex stammered pointedly moving his hands away from the weapons on his belt. “They said you were traitors and… And I believed their bullshit. I killed the commander.”

“You did not kill Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan reminded him sharply. “Injured her badly, yes, but she survived.” Absently he held Rex’s face between his palms, tracing his thumbs over the burn marks and healing the reddened, irritated flesh with a touch of magic. “It was a curse. Lady Yennefer was able to make a counterspell.”

Obi-Wan leaned back so Rex could see the woman peering intently over his shoulder at the trooper. “Does he speak Nord?” she demanded like Rex was a pet who might perform a trick.

“Yes, he does,” Rex ground out, accepting Obi-Wan’s help sitting up. “How the hell did I end up cursed? It couldn’t have been you, general. You cursed Cody, but that’s just like your hexes. It’ll wear off in an hour or two?”

“The blindness hex I used on Cody is harmless and not very powerful. He will have fully recovered his sight by now. Your curse mostly likely didn’t originate from any Jedi. Lady Yennefer identified it as a form of demonic possession.” Obi-Wan kept a steadying hand on Rex’s back as Yennefer practically crawled over him to examine where the curse marks had been on Rex’s face.

She hummed when she realized Obi-Wan had already healed him. “Large scale demonic possession. Something I’ve read about, though it’s not a small working and I’ve never seen it in practice before. In form it very much resembles a mind distortion or mind control curse.” She tipped Rex’s chin up, examining his eyes. “However, rather than just one unfortunate soul, a demon can grant the mage contracted with it the ability to inflict the same horror on untold numbers of victims without the initial draw of the casting killing the mage. Unlike a traditional curse, the possession requires a binding, something that connects the demon and the victim. In your case, in the form a tattoo made of something with little pigment in it. Less than ideal for a witcher honestly, since your body would attack the substance and break it down over time. It must have specially formulated just for this purpose to have lasted this long.” She sounded pleased, like she’d discovered a rare species of flora. “Do you remember your face being tattooed?”

Rex jerked his chin out of her grip. “No. I don’t,” he said, completely unamused.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I know when it happened. Our men were marked with sigils directly after they were decanted as part of the… programming process. The runes were meant to encourage loyalty, attachment to each other and their Jedi, as well as make them easier to ensorcel for healing and augmentation. I’m not clear on the specifics. I never saw it done, only read about it in the reports.”

He hadn’t had time to go back to Kamino himself once the war had begun. Master Shaak Ti had observed the process of decanting and training and reported back when the Jedi had first taken responsibility for the army. She’d stated the sigils used were no more harmful than those applied by a master to a padawan, only longer lasting. Obi-Wan had never thought to question further except to offer to remove the loyalty sigils of any man who asked. None ever had so he’d added it to his list of things to confront after the war was won.

Yennefer hummed. “Well, one of your ‘programmers’ was marking them with a binding as well. If it was done as sigil then it would have been passive until something activated it. From the structure I found…” Ignoring Rex’s flinch she touched the halfway up the bridge of his nose. “Oh, that’s clever. It must have been two steps. The first activation imbued binding with a passive reservoir of power, probably when it was charged for the first time along with the other sigils. Then, something else triggered the release of that reservoir and the activation of the binding and the curse. Fascinating and impressive.”

Rex grabbed her by the wrist. “Don’t.” Obi-Wan forced himself to release the hilt of his own dagger. He’d forgotten how quickly a motivated clone could move.

Realizing what she’d been doing, Yennefer carefully withdrew her hand. “I am sorry for what happened to you, Captain, but the skill involved in this curse can’t be denied. Do you know what activated it? Was it instantaneous, and who was affected?”

Tracing perfectly smooth, newly healed lines on his face, Rex stared off into the distance. “You remembered those stupid handmirrors, general? The ones that were supposed to help us communicate in the field but shattered if you looked at them wrong?”

“Of course, they were bane of Cody’s existence,” Obi-Wan answered, unsure of why Rex would mention the useless things. He settled his hands in his belt to keep them from fluttering.

“I got the order in my mirror directly from the emp… from Palpatine. Order Sixty-Six.” He switched to the Republican tongue. “Good soldiers follow orders.”

“This Palpatine could activate the curse from anywhere,” Yennefer said, far too pleased with herself. “He’d only have to speak directly to the officers to start the cascade. They would pass the activation phrase down the ranks. Since the binding contained its own magic, you wouldn’t need a mage present to jumpstart it.”

Obi-Wan vaguely remembered Cody holding the small, round mirror in his hand in the moments before the world went mad. “All the men though, all of them marked and waiting for a single phrase to turn on their friends and fellow warriors? Doomed before we knew them?” He swallowed, and it burned.

Yennefer actually looked sympathetic, though it was directed at Rex. “If you had a majority of people suddenly go directly against their previously demonstrated personalities, then yes. Most likely all of your men were cursed. Logistically it makes sense, a living bomb that could be detonated when most convenient. Since the curse is passive, no mage would pick up murderous intent or ill feelings from it. Those didn’t come from the men but an outside force twisting their perceptions. How many of them would have done what they did without the curse, well I don’t know. Surely some. However, it doesn’t really matter. When the curse was activated, they would have been under the demon’s control and, by extension, the mage holding the demon’s leash.”

She awkwardly patted Rex’s shoulder. Rex was so pale he looked yellowish. “I’ll give you two a moment. There’s tea when you’re ready, Captain.”

Obi-Wan wiped absently at his blood and oil streaked hands with the hem of his tunic. For so long he hadn’t understood. From day to day, he went between rage at all the lies Cody and his other favorites must have told him, or guilt for forcing them to hide until they snapped. It had never occurred to him that there might not have been a choice to make.

“Those rat bastards,” Rex hissed hand going to the knife on his belt as he slipped back into the Republican tongue. “I’ll kill them. The Jedi. Sir, are they all gone?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, bringing his hands back and folding them in his lap before he could reach for his weapon. “The Order is destroyed as you were told. There’s maybe half a dozen of us left I know of and none in the new empire. Yoda managed to escape and rejoin some of his people. Ahsoka has been with Lady Padme these last few years. I’ve heard rumors that some padawans might yet live but considering the bounty on my head I haven’t attempted to make contact with anyone.”

“But General Koon and General Secura,” Rex said near desperately, naming two of the Jedi who’d practically shared a soul with their clone officers.

“Bly killed Secura, Rex. Quinlan Vos massacred what was left of the three-two-seven before Vader killed him. Master Koon’s sloop was sunk, crew and all, and the survivors killed. Commander Wolffe was among the casualties. Bultar Swan managed to portal off her own vessel before her troops could get to her, but she witnessed the whole thing. As far as I know, she ran into inquisitors before she reached Zerrikania. I assume she’s dead.” Or worse Obi-Wan didn’t say. Rex would know better than him what happened to the Jedi caught by Palpatine’s collared mages. “We didn’t know about the curse, Rex. None of us who escaped tried to save your brothers. We assumed you’d made your choice.”

Rex inhaled sharply and Obi-Wan swallowed the sour lump of shame. They sat in silence as Rex processed all the memories which had once been so clear, and the facts he’d been told with the new context he now had. “You had your reasons,” he finally admitted bleakly.

Like a young apprentice with bright blue eyes who Rex had gutted without a thought. Obi-Wan had held Ahsoka as she begged for her murderer even while the wound was closed. There hadn’t been time for a slow, gentle healing spell. Rex ran his fingers through his short hair leaving dark streaks before reaching to his right pauldron. During the war, a simple tracking amulet had hung there tied to the silka beads Ahsoka wore to indicate her padawan rank. Obi-Wan swallowed the words. Ahsoka had burned those beads the moment she could draw breath without screaming. Rex knew what he’d done. There was no reason to burden him with the details.

“The fact I was still covered in blood from Cody slitting my throat had something to do with my decision not to try to take some of my men with me,” Obi-Wan admitted, looking down at the scars on his hands. There was rusty red under his nails from painting the sigils on Rex. “I need to know, Rex, is he coming for Lady Padme?”

Rex was silent again considering Obi-Wan cautiously. “We have orders, capture, not kill, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, and Lady Padme and any children born of her body. Vader said it was the Emperor’s wish to pardon the family of Anakin Skywalker, the emperor’s beloved foster son, and declare Skywalker’s children the heirs of the empire. You and Lady Padme were to comfort the emperor in his old age since Skywalker couldn’t.”

Obi-Wan’s hands clenched into fists. “Then he knows about the children.” It wasn’t a question. “Damn.”

“Sir, if Lady Padme and her children live, then I need to get the curse on my boys broken so we can get to them. We’re supposed to be her personal honor guard. I’ve got Kix and Jesse with me just to take care of her and the kids.” Rex’s mouth was a straight grim line. He knew Vader meant nothing good sending his most capable healer and Kix’s commando-trained partner as an ‘honor guard’. Lady Padme was a warrior. Her children would be as well. Vader wanted to make sure they made it Coruscant alive, but alive didn’t mean intact.

Obi-Wan nearly agreed without thinking. There were a hundred, hundred holes in the world he had no way to fill. The Jedi were gone, but he might have his men back. He might have Cody by his side at least. It was a selfish thought. They all deserved to be finally, truly free for their own sake, not his comfort. “Captain, while I agree freeing your brothers absolutely must be done, I’m not sure we can. Even with the help of two mages, Sir Geralt barely managed to subdue you. We simply don't have the ability to safely contain all your men long enough to perform four rituals.”

“Put them to sleep,” Rex snapped, wiggling his fingers in the troopers handsign for using magic. “Or temporarily blind them. General Skywalker once knocked out an entire seppie company.”

“Anakin had a great deal more raw power than I do, and I’ve used a lot of magic in the past day, Captain. I couldn’t hex four of my own troopers wearing the armor I specifically runed to let me ensorcel them at range right now. Let alone three of your best commandos and the most stubborn medic in the army.” Obi-Wan rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes.

Rex clenched his jaw, picking at the place where Ahsoka’s amulet had hung. “I’ll order them to let Lady Yennefer break the curse. I’ll tell them she’s Sith. It’s not that big a jump.” Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. Rex knew it wasn’t feasible. Not even a curse could stop Fives from asking uncomfortable questions. “We can’t leave them, sir.”

“Perhaps tea,” Obi-Wan suggested helplessly. “We’re both very tired. It could only help.”

* * *

Yennefer had returned from her inspection of their new friend to make tea with a level of industriousness unusual for her. Geralt accepted a mug when she pushed it at him. “So,” she said keeping her voice low, “the good news is Kenobi’s friend is unlikely to kill us in our sleep.”

“And the bad news?” Geralt asked grimacing at how oversteeped the tea was.

“It’s quite possible there is an entire army of witchers under a demonically powered mind control curse.” Yennefer took a sip of her own tea, glared at it, and whispered something that turned it into brandy.

“Well. Shit.” Geralt went ahead and downed the tea in a single gulp. “Yen, let me make the tea. Or turn the whole thing into booze so we can all have some.” Yennefer glared at him and pointedly flounced off to share her brandy with Priscilla and Dandelion. It just made Geralt feel fond.

He settled in front of the fire, taking the quiet moment to clean his weapons without having Dandelion or Yen yell at him for getting oil on their clothes. He kept an ear on the tense conversation between Blondie and Kenobi, but Blondie seemed more frustrated than potentially homicidal. Eventually, the blond witcher made his way over to the fire. From his ferocious scowl the argument was still ongoing. Kenobi followed him like an anxious sheepdog, carrying the witcher’s helmet under one arm.

Rex sat cautiously a few feet away from Geralt, carefully holding his wooden bowl of tea that had been pressed into service due to Geralt only having one cup. He looked over curiously at Geralt a few times before speaking. “So you’re a witcher,” he said, looking for distraction from Kenobi’s hovering. “We’d never seen a witcher before, just brothers like us.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some questions about that.” Geralt offered setting his sword to the side so no one got the wrong idea. “Hell of a fight though.” He held out a hand. “Geralt of Rivia.”

Rex reached over and clasped Geralt’s forearm. “Rex, Captain, Torrent Company.” He leaned back. “Be glad the general incapacitated Cody first.” Taking a sip of the tea, Rex grimaced and traded the bowl to Obi-Wan for his helmet, setting it by his feet. “Sorry for coming at you like that.”

Geralt waved him off. “You were cursed, wasn’t like it was a choice.”

“Yeah, about that, how did you know?” Rex asked unconsciously, reaching up to where the marks of the binding had been.

Tapping his wolf medallion Geralt shrugged. “It’s what I do. Witchers in this part of the world traditionally kill monsters and break curses for a living. My medallion is spelled to detect magic. When I was slinging you around, it started vibrating. So you were either secretly a mage or cursed.”

Rex gave a toothy smile. “Yeah, not a Jedi.” He gestured at Geralt’s medallion. “Did your Jedi make it for you?”

It took Geralt a moment to realize Rex was talking about Yennefer. “Yen’s a sorceress, not a Jedi. And no. The medallion was given to me by my guild.” Eskel had taken the wooden box full of wolf’s heads with him when they’d left Kaer Morhan for the last time.

“So you were taught how to break curses.” Rex leaned a little closer to Geralt. “You could teach me how to break the curse on my brothers.” He gestured at his face, his eyes. “You’re a brother too, so I should be able to learn.”

It was odd to hear ‘brother’ substituted into the place of ‘witcher’ as if the equivalence was the most natural thing in the world. Geralt picked up his sword, rubbing at the encrusted grime in the hilt detail so he wouldn’t have to look at the other witcher. “The problem is this isn’t really a curse. In theory, breaking it is easy. That bit Yen and your Kenobi did with the fire and oil. Anyone with the right ingredients and candle could do it. The problem is it took another witcher and two mages to subdue you long enough to complete the ritual. Every one of your brothers would have to be held down, marked with the oil in precisely the right pattern, and keep still until the oil burned out.”

Rex went back to scowling. “Lady Yennefer said that the curse is from a demon controlled by a mage. So if I found and killed the mage that would break the curse for all of us,” he countered.

“No. It might actually make it worse.” Geralt gave up pretending to be interested in the cleaning rag. “If you want to break the curse for all of your brothers, you’re going to have to go to head to head with the demon.” He reached up and absently scratched at the stubble where Master Mirror’s brand had once been. The hair there had grown back silky and fine instead of coarse. “That’s not something to do unprepared. Or at all if you can avoid it. I wouldn’t if there was another option.”

Rex nodded in grim acceptance of Geralt’s professional assessment. “I need to free more of my brothers then. My men and Cody and his boys at least. More of us improves the odds, right?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Witchers rarely work in larger groups than pairs. I’ve never done a contract with more than one of my brothers,” Geralt admitted. “If you do decide to take a run at the demon at some point, I’d be willing to help. And waive the fee.” The curse on Rex and his brothers was a nasty piece of work. More than that, knowing Rex’s brothers were in thrall to dark magic made Geralt’s stomach twist in worry for Eskel and Lambert. Kicking the shit out of the demon responsible for the brother-witchers’ suffering would help with that. “You’re also welcome to look through my gear. I’ve got some Devil’s Puffball bombs. They’ll make you cough up blood, but if you swapped out the poison for a sedative it might work to knock your brothers out so you can do the ritual.”

“You have knock-out bombs” Rex’s grin was absolutely feral. “How many?” Geralt dug around in his bag to show him. “And do you have any recommendations for the sedative?”

Geralt was about to ask what Rex’s plan was when Kenobi interrupted. “Rex, how are you going to get back into Novigrad without drawing Vader’s attention?”

Rex gave the mage an incredulous look. “Novigrad? Who do you think Vader’s got tracking you ? Waxer and Boil are on your trail right now. Cody always puts my boy’s on rearguard when I’m with… When I’m away. He doesn’t trust Fives not to get creative. We can circle back and catch Torrent before they meet up with Cody at the night’s camp. If I walk up to them looking roughed up and say I escaped and I know where you are I can lead them anywhere. We set up an ambush, hit them with knock-out bombs, and you and Lady Yennefer fix them.”

“If Lady Yennefer and I were to get that close Vader would certainly sense us,” Kenobi countered.

“Lor… Vader doesn’t leave civilization if he can avoid it. His armor’s uncomfortable, and he can only remove it in his private quarters.” Rex shrugged. “It used to be different right after the war. Vader led from the front, but he slowed down after Honoghr. Now, he just portals to us when we contact him. It’s just brothers out there. Not that dealing with Cody is going pleasant.”

Kenobi frowned. “I don’t like the idea of doubling-back, Captain. Vader is a formidable foe. We’ve escaped for the moment. We might not be so lucky again. And this all depends on timing since we’ll only have one shot. Will you be able to walk away if Torrent makes it back to Cody before you can reach them?”

Rex gaped at Kenobi. “Sir, you can’t be serious. We could get Cody back, and Vader sent Kix for a reason. We could use him. Also, I’d rather have Fives and that crazy shit Echo on our side. You know what they’re like.”

“I understand you want to free your brothers, Rex. And we will go back for them. I don’t like leaving Ghost Company to Vader any more than you wish to leave Torrent. But my first responsibility is to Lady Padme and the children. If Vader gets to the children he will take them by portal directly to the emperor. Once they’re in Coruscant, we will never see them again. Any delay could be the end of hope for the Republic.” Kenobi’s grimy face declared he felt absolutely martyred.

Geralt was impressed that Rex didn’t punch the mage. Geralt would have probably had less self-control. As it was, Rex’s eyes went narrow and snake-like. “Do you want to quote duty at me, Lord Jedi General Kenobi?”

Kenobi was about to say something else stupid that was going to end in Rex beating shit out of him. So Geralt smiled. “Let me put it to you this way, Kenobi. You can ride your horse when we go back for Rex’s brothers. Or you can be tied to it.” Kenobi’s pretty blue eyes were wide like Geralt had declared a sudden love for Toussaint musical theatre. Rex appeared just as gobsmacked. Picking up his rag, Geralt went back to work. “If Rex’s brother has witchers tracking us, we’re better off losing them now. You humans are slow. They will catch up. I’d rather deal with them now than in four days when they ambush our camp.”

Yennefer agreed to Rex’s plan purely because Kenobi didn’t. Sometimes her adversarial bent was useful. Dandelion and Priscilla, of course, were horrified by the whole story and insisted Rex’s brothers be rescued immediately. Rex had been flustered by the bards’ passionate attempt to sway Kenobi to their way of thinking. It might have had some impact because Kenobi reluctantly threw his support behind a variation of the plan which had Rex ordering his men to follow him into an ambush to be pelted with Devil’s Puffball bombs modified to have a sedative effect instead of a toxic one.

Priscilla volunteered to be the distraction. Leading all four horses further south on foot would help mask the double-back. Without the burden of a rider on any of the mounts, it would be an easy, if wrong, assumption that all four were carrying riders since the tracks would be roughly the same depth. Dandelion’s protests lasted exactly long enough for Priscilla to remind him she was the least likely to be killed on sight by Rex’s brothers if they caught up.

The rest was just hunting. Rex and Geralt would be covering most of the distance alone while the humans set up the ambush further back to avoid drawing the notice of Cody and his men. Geralt found Rex’s men much closer than he’d expected. They were moving single file and at a rapid clip, probably late for the hot supper waiting at the camp up ahead where Cody’s squad was. Too close for comfort. All it took was a nod from Rex to send Geralt back to the others to tell them to hide and wait.

* * *

An ambush was much easier when Rex could simply order his men to walk right into the barrage of sedative bombs thrown by everyone, including Yennefer herself. Obi-Wan, Yennefer, and Geralt set up a curse breaking assembly line with Geralt applying the blood and oil, Yennefer doing the actual curse-breaking, and Obi-Wan healing the results of igniting oil on human skin.

Fives was the first of Rex’s men to wake up, and he did it loudly, calling frantically for Ahsoka. Rex grabbed the younger soldier holding him still. “The commander’s alive, Fives. General Kenobi healed her. She’s alive.”

Fives’ distress caused Echo and Kix to stir, and Kix moving about roused Jesse. Obi-Wan held out a hand, keeping everyone back as Rex explained the situation to the men who’d once called themselves Torrent Company. Obi-Wan was shocked when Fives ripped his arm out of Rex’s grip and hurled himself at the Jedi. Instinct had a repulsion spell on the tip of Obi-Wan’s tongue but he could feel the strange, joyful desperation Five’s mind was screaming out for anyone who could hear. “ _Gar su’cuyi,_ general!” Fives shouted directly into Obi-Wan’s ear as he yanked the Jedi into a crushing embrace.

It had been a very long time since Obi-Wan had heard Mando’a, even longer since he’d been grabbed by a trooper who was happy to see him. Fives didn’t so much hug Obi-Wan as clutch at his doublet like a traumatized cadet. Obi-Wan put a comforting hand on the back of Fives’ head, uncertain of why the young soldier was so emotional.

“I knew,” Fives said with a wet gasp, “I knew about the curse. I told my general but… We both forgot somehow.”

“Palpatine revealed himself to be a powerful Sith lord, Sergeant. Considering what he’s done, he would have had more than enough skill to manipulate your memories without anyone noticing,” Obi-Wan said soothingly. If Fives had told Anakin about the curse and Anakin had ignored his warning then Palpatine’s corruption of Obi-Wan’s apprentice had gone much deeper than anyone realized.

Rex gently pried Fives off Obi-Wan, wrapping a comforting arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “You told me as well, Fives. I should have pushed harder. None of this is your fault.”

Yennefer cleared her throat pointedly. “Considering only one person involved was summoning demons, I’m fairly certain I know exactly where the blame lies.” She heaved a disappointed sigh. “Without curse truly none of you want to kill him?”

“We didn’t want to kill our generals,” Kix said bitterly, rubbing his temples. “We didn’t want to kill anybody. Good soldiers follow orders.” He spat out the last words like a blasphemy. Jesse leaned over, pressing his forehead to Kix’s, murmuring something soothing in mando’a.

“You may not have wanted to then, but you might still find yourself wanting to now, at least briefly.” Yennefer spoke briskly not looking at Kix or, strangely enough, Geralt. “This kind of mental magic has side-effects. Trouble recalling things from when you were cursed, headache, irritability, minor personality changes, that sort of thing. Generally, only the memory loss is permanent. So if you continue to feel the urge to punch Kenobi in the next few months it’s not the curse. It’s just him.”

The men gave her a mixture of horrified looks, Fives and Echo, and amused ones, Jesse and Rex. Kix looked immensely uncomfortable. He was watching Obi-Wan warily out of the corner of his eye, which was strange for the very direct medic. Then again, Rex’s smile was strained, no doubt thinking about Ahsoka again.

Obi-Wan awkwardly reached out to pat Rex’s shoulder. Rex wasn’t Cody, and, while Rex and Obi-Wan worked together well, the 501st’s captain had been friendly, not a friend. Still, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Cody had loved Rex, so Obi-Wan had as well. Obi-Wan shifted the pat to a firm clasp just above the pauldron like he might with one of his troopers who wasn’t Cody. “Have patience,” he told Rex quietly. “You will feel more like yourself in time.”

“I felt like myself with that fucking thing on my face,” Rex growled. He dipped his shoulder in the silent request for the Jedi back off. Obi-Wan gave him space immediately. “I don’t know what I feel like now.” He reached again for where the amulet that bound him to Ahsoka had hung, frowning when his gloved fingers found only ceramic plate.

“Like a golem just used my helmet as a gong.” Kix reluctantly stopped probing his face. He touched his throat as well, high, above his gorget. There was a general of agreement with the medic’s description.

Echo rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Sir, what are we going to do about Commander Cody and Ghost Company? You can’t just order him to march into the woods. And if we come back from patrol with you, you know he’s going to have questions.”

“We’re going to ambush them in the forward camp. Before Cody realizes you're not just taking too long on patrol,” Rex nodded to Geralt. “Care to join us, brother?”

“Your Cody fight like you?” Geralt asked wryly, already knowing the answer.

Obi-Wan gave a tired chuckle. “Who do you think taught him?”

* * *

Rex held out one hand making some gesture Geralt didn’t recognize. A hand tugged at Geralt’s shoulder bringing him to a stop. The witcher Geralt had been paired with for the infiltration of the camp was called Jesse. He seemed a little older than the others, closer to Rex’s age. Though it was hard to tell if there were actual age differences between the other witchers or just social roles they’d taken to filling. Regardless, Jesse and the younger, more skittish Fives seemed to be Rex’s lieutenants. Fives and his friend Echo had circled around the small clearing to get a better angle on their target. Geralt wasn’t sure how they told each other apart, but all of them seemed to know exactly which of the white armored bodies in the clearing they were supposed to bring down.

There were four men huddled around a small, smokeless fire, settled on blankets but still fully armored. Two had laid down next to each other and seemed to be asleep with their helms next to the pack they were sharing as a pillow. The third was propped up against a tree trunk, snoring softly, still fully armored. The fourth had his helmet off and his mask pulled down to hang around his neck as he sat with his back to the fire, looking out into the darkness. Number four was Black and Curly, Cody.

Geralt had really been hoping that it was anyone else on watch. Fighting Rex had been bad. Cody apparently put Rex’s face into the dirt on a regular basis, and this time Kenobi wasn’t going to be able to trick him into accepting a kiss laced with a blinding spell. Though Geralt would admit to prurient curiosity about why Kenobi knew it would work the first time. Neither Rex nor any of his men had commented on the method. Luckily, Priscilla had a gleam in her eye, and she was much harder to say no to than Geralt. She’d get the story out of Fives or Echo, the two youngest of the strange witchers, easily enough.

There was the snap of a branch somewhere off to the right. Geralt winced, praying that Cody would be content just to scan the dark woods instead of going to investigate. It wasn’t even one of their people. Geralt could hear the rustle of a small vermin in the brush.

Cody closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. That was not good. Rex seemed to agree because he gave up all pretense of stealth, throwing himself towards his brother with witcher speed. Geralt was right behind him, the bolo Fives had lent him whipping through the air. The two men who’d been sleeping next to each other were rolling to their feet. The strangely high pitched clack of pottery, instead of the clang of metal, rang through night as both men were taken down by two of their brothers apiece. The man who’d been sleeping propped up on the tree trunk was struggling with some overly friendly vines. Kenobi’s contribution, since it seemed more like one of Triss’ tricks than Yennefer’s.

Geralt released the bolo as Rex dodged out of the way at the last second. Cody batted it out of the air with the slightly curved tip of his thin-bladed saber. “Rex!” he barked, followed by words in the language Kenobi and Rex had used to talk.

Rex didn’t hesitate, bringing up his long daggers, twisting out of the way of the blade and slashing towards Cody’s face with the sort of precision Geralt still wasn’t used to seeing from another person. Geralt drew his own steel sword in case Rex missed.

Cody leaned backwards just far enough the tips of Rex’s daggers passed in front of his nose without making contact. Geralt got his sword in front of Cody’s saber to save Rex from an oblique blow which was aimed to sever the lower part of his arm. The block gave Geralt an up-close look at the wickedly curved tip of a blade that was less longsword and more Offeri saber meant for long, drawing cuts. The saber was designed for one handed wielding, which would usually be an advantage for Geralt and his preferred hand-and-a-half swords. Cody smiled brightly at Geralt then whipped his curved blade out of the block at an angle a straight blade couldn’t move without breaking the wielder’s wrist. The movement transitioned smoothly into using his vambrace, heavier and reinforced compared to the one’s Geralt had seen on Rex and his men, to block Rex’s strike towards his hip.

Geralt understood why Rex had been worried. Cody’s sword wasn’t designed for effective blocking, but it didn’t matter because he had reinforced some of his armor plates to act as bucklers. He was also witcher fast and, unlike Rex and Geralt, willing to inflict serious injury.

Rex had to roll backwards, giving himself space as Cody rushed forward, trying to use the longer reach of his saber to overwhelm Rex’s guard. Geralt went for the back of Cody’s head with the pommel of his sword, hoping to at least daze the man. Cody bent like he’d seen Geralt move, his head adjusted just far enough the pommel didn’t do more than just brush a curl. It was apparent who’d taught Rex low-energy dodging.

The dodge had slowed Cody enough that Rex had managed to get nearly twelve feet between them. Geralt extended his hand, fingers pointed out, and let a wave of force ripple from his hand. Rex froze as Cody flew off his feet to skid shoulder first into a tree. There was a long moment where the other witchers stared at Geralt, then Echo came to his senses. He dogpiled onto Cody followed by Fives and Rex. Geralt tossed his sword to the side and joined them so they could each pin a limb.

Cody was swearing, but not in a language Geralt could understand. His face twisted up, words reverting to animalistic snarls when Kenobi leaned over all of them with a ball of blue light cupped in his hand going so far as to snap at the mage’s fingers with his teeth as Kenobi tipped the light across his face. The man, who Geralt wasn’t completely convinced didn’t have some devil in him, finally went limp.

Kenobi let out a long breath. “Are you uninjured Captain? Sir Geralt?”

Rex grunted carefully releasing his death grip on the unconscious witcher’s forearm. “More or less. I’ve taken worse from him in a spar. Mostly thanks to Geralt. I owe you one.” He dipped his head appreciatively in Geralt’s direction.

“I’ve seen less brutal monsters,” Geralt replied frankly. “If he’d been trying to kill us, someone would be dead.”

“Yes.” Kenobi’s agreement was grave. He reached out absently, like he was going to fix Cody’s messy curls, but remembered himself and withdrew before he touched. “Someone would be. Captain Rex, please bind the men. I’d like to be well away from here before someone wonders why they haven’t reported in.”

The new witchers didn’t wake up during the curse-breaking, even though neither Yennefer nor Kenobi had enough energy left to fully heal the burns. Geralt ended up carrying a man named Wooley slung over his shoulders while Echo rode Roach. At the bottom of the dogpile, Echo had taken several direct punches to the head from a furious Cody and was nursing a headache which was most probably a concussion. Rex plodded along next to Geralt, carrying Cody. Jesse was carrying one of the two who’d been sharing a blanket. Kenobi, with surprising strength, had slung the last man over his shoulders. Fives had produced a steel limbed recurve bow and nasty looking barbed arrows from somewhere. He roamed along the edges of their motley party occasionally picking off drowners or a too curious nekker.

Normally, Yennefer would have summoned some kind of light. Since they had more witchers than humans, they walked in the dark. Kix led the string of horses. His quiet murmurs in a foreign language were the only noise beyond the click of armor and creak of leather.

They walked until dawn. The man draped over Geralt’s shoulders groaned as the first watery sunlight trickled through the branches. He slapped Geralt’s side, not an attack but a request. It took a moment for Geralt to remember how to stop. When he finally did, it was a stumbling, uncertain slowing of momentum. Wooley swung his legs around to slide down Geralt’s back. He stared at Geralt when he stepped around to see who his rescuer was. He said something then frowned deeper when Geralt shook his head. “I don’t speak that.”

“You’re not a brother,” Wooley said with an even thicker accent than Rex’s. He looked around uncertainly.

“If you can talk, then you can take Waxer from the general,” Rex snapped. He paused when Wooley continued to stare blankly at Geralt. “It wasn’t a dream, brother. But we don’t have time now. Take Waxer.”

The order had Wooley moving though it was obvious his mind hadn’t caught up. He froze again when he saw Kenobi. Kenobi interrupted the beginnings of the man’s breakdown by practically throwing his unconscious friend at him. “I’ve been walking all night, lieutenant. Some help wouldn’t be amiss.” Wooley accepted the weight of the unconscious man with a dazed expression. His compliance was aided by a spark of blue light from Kenobi’s fingertips during the handover, which perked him up enough to look around and think instead of just staring.

Geralt called a halt to the forced march when Dandelion fell off his horse then woke up after impacting the ground. The bard’s groaning had Kix, who was some kind of healer, rushing over. Priscilla had the startled horse she’d been sharing with her partner under control before Jesse, who’d followed Kix, caught the animal’s bridle.

“Dandelion,” Geralt barked, though if the bard was well enough to complain that he was dying then he’d be just fine.

“He’ll be fine,” Kix snapped in reply.

Yennefer reined in Roach, letting the mare meander the last few steps to bump her nose into Geralt’s shoulder. She was hanging onto the pommel with one hand, swaying gently. Geralt reached up, putting a hand on her thigh to steady her. “Rex, the others,” Geralt said, glancing over at the witcher who’d been setting the pace.

Rex looked up at Yennefer. She was sitting in the saddle out of long habit more than attention. Her long, dark curls had been gathered up and tied out of her face with a piece of ribbon that used to be the trim of her skirt. Geralt patted her leg again drawing a small, but real, smile as she glanced down at him. “I’m fine, but Priscilla…” she trailed off glancing over at the other woman. Priscilla was actually doing best of all the humans with him since she’d been able to doze during the ride.

Kenobi was upright but that was all that could be said since the only reason he’d stopped walking was that Fives was sturdy enough he’d bounced off when he walked into him. Wooley lunged forward to steady the mage, dropping the man he was carrying. The only reason the unconscious witcher didn’t crack his head on the ground was a wordless spell cast by Kenobi that levitated him safely back up to shoulder height.

“Okay,” Geralt growled as he helped Wooley get a grip on his floating friend, “we’re making camp here.”

“Lovely.” Yennefer wrinkled her nose as she eyed the layer of loam on either side of the road.

“You can have the bedroll.” Geralt grimaced as he checked the pack he’d tossed behind Roach’s saddle. It was his contract pack, with enough camping supplies for him and Roach for a few days. Everyone but Yennefer would be sleeping cold and damp.

Wooley turned to Kenobi with a hopeful expression. He wasn’t the only one as all the white-armored witchers looked at the mage like he could pull an inn out of his back pocket. Kenobi blinked slowly like he wasn’t certain of where he was. “A clearing?”

Rex grimaced. “Yes, general. I don’t suppose you have any of those coins of yours left?”

Kenobi reached down, fumbling with the waistband of his hose. For a moment, Geralt genuinely thought the man was about to stick his hand into his codpiece. Instead, Kenobi rolled down the overlarge waist of his hose just enough to reveal the silk sash around his waist. He dug into the pocket made by the sash and extracted something in his clenched fists. Extending his arm, he opened his hand. There was a pop followed by a dull thud as a large, canvas wrapped bundle hit the ground at Kenobi’s feet.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Rex said with a grin. “Geralt, grab the general before he falls over.”

Geralt braced Kenobi as Rex’s men descended on the bundle. It looked like one of Vesemir’s emergency kits with blankets, bedrolls, canvas, ropes, and pegs all packed together so tightly the size of the bag was deceptive. Fives crowed happily when he saw the bedrolls, which were much nicer than the woolen pad Geralt used, made of the same black silk as the foreign witcher’s gambisons and large enough for two men if they didn’t mind getting cozy.

“Oh,” Yennefer breathed, “yes. One of those is mine.”

“You and Geralt can share,” Echo replied as he helped Fives pry all the bedrolls out of the pack. He looked up at Geralt who was steadying both Yennefer and Kenobi. “Captain, I think we need to get the Jedi down before they fall down.”

“That’s what we’re doing, Echo,” Rex replied patiently. “Kix, get a lean to set up. We’ll stick the colorful ones and the Jedi there until we can get those tarps up. Fives, Echo, patrol. Jesse, help me finish unpacking this thing.” Geralt didn’t get any orders as a courtesy, but he didn’t need them. Someone had to watch the humans and the horses since only Priscilla was awake enough to help if a horse spooked.

The rough camp came together quickly. Priscilla slid off her horse shakily with only a little urging from Jesse, tugging Dandelion after her. Yennefer woke up enough to follow them, glaring half-heartedly at Kenobi as she passed. Geralt kept ahold of the semi-conscious mage, since they needed man alive. “He can’t stay with the others,” Geralt warned Jesse, keeping his voice low enough humans wouldn’t be able to hear. “He’s a stranger, and Yen’s picky.”

“I’ll put the general down with Cody and his boys,” Jesse said. He accepted Kenobi’s weight with ease, a stark reminder that Geralt, for once, wasn’t the only warrior in their mismatched cavalcade.

“Tell Rex I’ll take one of the watches. Just wake me.” Geralt started to unbuckle his sword-belt, considering if it was worth pulling off his reinforced leather breastplate. Yennefer lifted the edge of the blanket she’d dragged over herself in welcome, and he undid the buckles at his shoulder rapidly before she could get cold enough to think better of her offer.

* * *

Rex put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, keeping him down. Cody’s breathing didn’t change. Anyone who didn’t know him would assume Cody was still sleeping, which was why Rex was keeping watch. “Easy, big brother,” he murmured. He spoke in Mando’a, implying that they were safe. “You just went through a curse-breaking.”

Cody slit open one eye, pupil flaring wide to see in the dim firelight like a snake about to strike. “Rex, the generals,” he said more lip movement than sound.

“Not a dream.” Rex leaned hard on Cody’s shoulder. “Kenobi’s alive, big brother. It wasn’t us. We were cursed, probably from the time we were decanted. It was tied to something the lady mage called a ‘demon’. Mind control, like a mind trick except more powerful and with no end, by Palpatine. The Jedi were never traitors.”

Cody was stiff as a day old corpse in Rex’s grip. “No. We were the traitors. Tano? Skywalker?”

“Kenobi says ‘Soka’s alive. I gutted her, Cody. I don’t know how she survived that. But he says the reason we never found a body is that she managed to portal to him so he could heal her.” Rex leaned closer breathing through his teeth. His voice had gotten louder and higher speaking about his former commander. “I’m not certain what happened to Skywalker. He put me in charge of the search for… survivors. The curse didn’t seem to work on him the same way. We were still taking orders from him up until the emperor ordered him up to that hellhole Mustafar. The only one from Torrent who went with him was Kix, since Surge company’s medic marched ahead. Skywalker never came back. Vader brought what was left of Surge home. We were ordered not to talk about Skywalker after.” Vader’s ‘orders’ had been unnaturally persuasive. None of the men had spoken about Skywalker after Vader took command.

“Do you know why the curse didn’t make you…” Cody winced not able to say the words.

Rex frowned. “Haven’t had a chance to sit and think properly. And everything that happened while I was cursed feels like I was kicked in the head repeatedly right after. Slippery, you know? Lady Yennefer, the mage that came up with the fix, says it might never come back or it might come back wrong. That’s normal apparently.” He and Cody shared a long sigh. Head injuries were a bitch. “I do remember Skywalker taking orders directly from the emp… from Palpatine. He was the court favorite so maybe he got himself cursed too. It would explain why he turned like we did. All I can figure is the curse wouldn’t stick properly to a Jedi, and Vader had to get rid of him.”

“Makes as much sense as anything else we did. If Skywalker was alive, Lady Padme wouldn’t be hiding. She’d be leading a rebellion with him.” Cody rubbed at his scar.

Before Cody could ask, Rex added, “Bly and all his boys are dead. They killed General Secura so Vos came for them. General Koon’s ship went down. The wolfpack went with it. I don’t know about Gree, Ponds, or Fox. If Kenobi knew about any more of our brothers he didn’t say.”

Cody listened silently as Rex continued, filling him in on the not-brother and his entourage who was travelling with them. His eyes kept flicking to the corner even though he didn’t move his head. Kenobi reeked of horse, sweat, and spent magic. It was completely unlike the general Rex had known. If he hadn’t seen and heard Kenobi speak, he wouldn’t have recognized him. It was different for Cody. It always had been. Rex had seen Cody track his general by following the sound of his heartbeat in a crowd of politicians.

“Do we know where Vader is?” Cody asked, still refusing to face his sleeping general.

“No. And no one’s deigned to tell me where we’re going, other than the hell away from Vader. Kenobi seems to have some ideas. Of course, he hasn’t bothered to tell anyone else.” Rex waited as Cody processed.

Cody sat up with Rex’s help, still not looking over at Kenobi. “Did everyone make it?” he asked, doing a headcount, which was much harder in their unmarked white armor. He relaxed when he saw that the remains of Ghost and Torrent were all present. Then his face fell and Rex wrapped his arms around his elder brother. During the war, there were sixteen squads in a company with four squads per lieutenant, around a hundred and sixty men, including officers. The lowest ranking trooper left was Echo, a corporal. Fives had made sergeant when the rest of Domino got wiped out.

Without the curse, it was easy to see the pattern. Echo and Fives had been Ahsoka Tano’s favorite bodyguards. Jesse was Kix’s other half, and Skywalker had adored his medic. Wooley had been the captain of Kenobi’s personal attack battalion, though Cody had usually been acting captain when Kenobi was personally leading the men. Waxer and Boil were Kenobi’s best scouts. Rex and Cody had been beloved by their Jedi generals, though in different ways.

There had been other brothers who the Jedi were attached to. Kenobi had somehow known the names of every man in the two-twelfth and most of those in the five-oh-first. But these were the bones of what had once been the support squadrons for the two greatest Republican generals. Considering how ruthlessly Vader used his men, the fact they were all still alive was intentional. Rex just didn’t know what it meant.

Delicately, Cody prodded the pinked, freshly healed skin on his nose. “What’s our supply situation?”

“Kenobi had some of his handy tokens. That’s where all this came from, but we only have four horses. That’s enough if we’re smart about how we load the pack animals.” A brother couldn’t outrun a horse, but he could outlast one. Geralt had no trouble keeping pace during their forced march, which meant his use of a horse was more of an affectation of humanity than necessity. Rex offered Cody a small pouch of the balm they used for chapped lips and armor chafing.

Cody accepted the pouch and smeared a generous amount of balm across the ghosts of the burning runes from the curse-breaking. “Does he have his pouch? That’d make things much easier.”

“Not that I saw. Just a couple of loose tokens.” Rex hesitated. “He’s not the officer you remember, Cody. Even once he knew about the curse, it wasn’t him who insisted on coming back for you. He and I had words. If Geralt hadn’t leant me his gear, we wouldn’t have gotten you out.”

“We were looking for Lady Padme, Rex. And assuming Commander Tano, and Skywalker’s children, would be with her. There’s not a world where Kenobi, where any of us, would prioritize anything higher than their safety.” Cody didn’t meet Rex’s eyes. “I cut his throat, Rex. We’d just killed Grievous. We were talking about how many casks to open up for the boys. He turned to speak to someone else, I checked the mirror. Then it was like I didn’t know him. He was just… a traitor, the enemy. I had my knife out and in his neck before I could think.” Cody’s lip curled up. “I don’t blame him for wanting to leave me. If Ahsoka would rather run to Kenobi than face you, would you blame her?”

“Leaving us, yes, but not our boys,” Rex protested. “Never them.”

Cody reached over, grabbing Rex’s knee and shaking. “Rex old boy, we all tried to kill them. Remember Umbara? How long until you could give a Jedi your back?”

“It’s not the same.”

“But it's not that different either, little brother.” Cody leaned heavily against Rex. “You’ve spent a little too much time with Skywalker. If something’s simple you better check twice you understand what’s going on.”

Rex rested his cheek against his elder brother’s hair. “And you’ve spent too much time with Kenobi. You don’t have to overcomplicate everything.”

Cody’s fingers absently traced across his cuirass. “I miss our paint. We should check the supplies. If they’re old tokens they probably have some cans for touch up. Has anyone done a weapons check? If you’re grabbing and running we’ve probably lost at least a few arrows.”

“Yes, sir, marshall commander, sir,” Rex teased. He regretted it when Cody flinched. Cody had been ‘Captain’ Cody since the end of the war. A clone trooper could never hold the equivalent of a general’s commission in the new empire. “Let’s check on the paint,” Rex said instead.

There were only two small cans of armor paint, one in 212th gold the other in 501st blue. With the judicious application of a boot knife to some twigs they made styluses to apply the thin stripes of color around the edges of their armor plates. That had been the standard application for battalion colors prior to the Jedi embracing individual schemes.

Waking up to the smell of paint and the crackle of a campfire eased the transition for the other brothers. They came in ones or in pairs to take their turn with the paint cans, drawing their identity back on blank armor. Kenobi slept, only stirring only briefly as Waxer and Boil were replaced by Fives and Echo on either side of him. Lady Yennefer was out cold as well, wrapped around Geralt. The man didn’t seem inclined to risk waking her by moving.

“Can I ask what the colors mean?” the blonde bard in blue and green velvet asked Rex cautiously. She held up a cup and a bowl. “I also brought tea!”

“In that case, feel free to join us, my lady,” Cody said in that particularly gentle tone he reserved for Lady Padme, Lady Breha, and Lady Satine. “Bring your lord as well. We can feel him staring.”

“Oh, we’re not ladies and lords,” the woman said brightly, settling herself on the rock Cody was leaning his back against. She passed the cup to Rex and the bowl to Waxer. Stream rose from both vessels. “I’m Priscillia.” She leaned back and dragged the brightly colored man to sit down next to her. “And this hovering mother hen is Dandelion.”

Rex pointed at himself. “Rex, I know probably overheard but we weren’t introduced. Scar on his mug is Cody. Tattoo and looks like he just bit into a lemon are Jesse and Kix. My boys Fives and Echo are over with the general. Fives has a goatee and an attitude. The crazy one’s Echo.”

Cody didn’t bother with colorful introductions. He pointed at his men with the stick he was using to apply paint. “Wooley, Waxer, and Boil.”

“Are you actually clones? Geralt said something about brothers?” Priscilla asked with an innocent fascination very unlike most peoples’ reaction to them.

“We are clones, Lady Priscilla,” Waxer replied with his usual good cheer. “That means we’re all brothers. _Vod an.”_

“Geralt’s a brother too,” Rex informed the others. “The eyes weren’t an illusion. They call us ‘witchers’ here.”

Dandelion looked between him with the uncomfortable sort of fascination they were used to. “How can Geralt be a ‘brother’? Or do all the witchers in your country consider themselves siblings?”

“There’s no witchers who aren’t brothers where we’re from,” Cody said gruffly. “No ‘witchers’ really. You belong to the empire or you’re dead.” He picked up his helmet and began lining the crest ridge in gold.

Priscilla slapped Dandelion’s shoulder with a horrified hiss. “Stop staring!”

“We’re used to it, Lady Priscilla,” Jesse reassured her. “It’s why our helms cover our faces.”

“Just because other people are uncomfortable with what they don’t understand doesn’t mean they should be cruel about it.” She flushed in outrage. “It’s just like those Eternal Fire bastards in Novigrad. Always sneering and spitting at Geralt and Yen, but when there’s drowners in the sewer or some noble’s son gets drunk and falls off the wall, who’s door do they go knocking at?” She sniffed disdainfully.

Dandelion ducked his head shamefaced. “But Priscilla, you heard what Kenobi said. They were mage hunters fighting dark magic. I need to know!”

“General Kenobi told you about Ghost Company?” Waxer asked, sharing a loaded glance with Boil.

“Tell him about Ghost Company during the war, if that’s what he wants to hear,” Cody ordered Waxer. Because the only one better at spinning a yarn without saying anything useful was Fives.

Waxer happily left Boil to paint both their sets of armor plates while he told Dandelion and Priscilla the story of one of Ghost Company’s more tame hunts for a Sith acolyte who had a penchant for raising ghouls.

While Waxer distracted the bards, Cody spoke quietly in Mando’a. “How long do you think we can stay here? Both our Jedi are riding the edge of magic burn. They can sleep on horseback, but I’d prefer to leave them as they are.”

“I’d prefer to put some more distance between us,” Rex replied in the same language, no need to specify Vader and draw attention. “Give the Jedi a few more hours, then we'll put them on a horse together. Geralt or Wooley can lead it so they can sleep.”

“I’ll start loading the horses as soon as our armor dries,” Cody said, turning back to his painting. That didn't give them much time to talk, barely any time with the general. But that was probably for the best. Rex needed a cask of black ale, a hot bath, and two nights sleep before he could even consider what had happened. Since that didn’t seem to be on offer, it was for the best they kept moving.

* * *

Geralt joined the strange witchers in front of the fire as they stretched out their legs. There were too many of them to put everyone one on a horse. Kenobi and Yennefer rode, since Kenobi didn’t mind Yen handling the reins, while Priscilla was behind Dandelion. The witchers put all their gear on the last two horses and moved on foot at a pace no human, even a mage, could maintain through a full day’s march.

Waxer and Boil turned out to be scouts with lighter armor and gear than the others. As the sun started to go down at the end of each day they ran ahead and found a place for their party to camp. It was nice to stumble into the campsite to find a fire already burning,often with something roasting over it.

Though his experiences with armies was limited to his time with Foltest and a few skirmishes over the years, Geralt had become something like a third officer to the witcher-soldiers. Cody was the most senior officer. From what little Geralt had gleaned from his conversations with Kenobi and Rex the man had once been the highest ranking witcher clone in the Republican army, but he seemed more shaken by the curse than any of the others. Rex had stepped up instead, which didn’t seem to surprise any of the lower ranking witchers, or Geralt. What did surprise Geralt was Fives and Echo coming to him with questions about sentry rotation, rationing, and what water was safe for Dandelion and Priscilla to drink. Even the older, grumpier Boil deferred to Geralt.

It was strange after being alone so often, seeing his brother witchers so rarely, to have willing company. Geralt found himself seeking out the foreign witchers as they lounged around camp waiting for dinner to be finished. He was sitting silently with Cody, both of them cleaning their blades, when Waxer and Boil joined them.

“Commander,” Boil said, gesturing at the small vial of oil, “you mind?” Cody shook his head passing it over. Geralt handed Boil one of his spare cleaning clothes. Boil nodded his thanks. “When are you going to get the general to make you some real armor?” he asked Geralt in a tone that was almost friendly. “That leather and chain has to be heavy as shit.”

“Says the man wearing full plate,” Geralt retorted without looking up from his whetstone. “Your mage doesn’t look like much of a blacksmith anyways. Too skinny.”

Boil and Cody both gave him odd looks. “You do know our armor is made of ceramic, not metal. And the gambison and leggings are silk like our masks,” Cody said mildly.

“Ceramic, like pottery?” Geralt asked, fascinated despite himself. After a moment's hesitation, Cody picked up his helm and passed to Geralt for examination. The material was smooth but much lighter than Geralt expected. He’d seen his blade skitter off the white plates during his fight with Rex without leaving a scratch. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“The first armor we were given was hardened leather and ceramic scale,” Cody said without looking up from his own work. “Many died in that first battle, cheap armor, cheap blades. The Jedi who were there saw our armor fail, our blades shatter. They wanted to outfit us with proper plate, but it was deemed too costly. Instead, General Ti and some of the Jedi alchemists came up with a process for strengthening the ceramic and forming it into plates. The Jedi healers insisted our padding be made of silk, not wool, since silk doesn’t catch in wounds and cause them to go rotten.” He looked down the blade of his sword, checking the blade for warping. “The Queen of Alderaan paid Mandalorian smiths to forge our blades and maintain our armor since the Republic would not. Our own armorers and blacksmiths learned from them.”

Geralt pulled out his knife, tilting it in question at Cody. Cody nodded in approval and Geralt did his best to drive the knife through Cody’s helm. He stopped before he shattered the blade but there was only the faintest scratch on the helm itself. “Huh. Not half bad,” Geralt admitted passing Cody’s helm back. “Still, isn’t it a little chilly if all you’ve got is this stuff and silk? Seems like this was made for a different climate.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Fives said cheerfully, throwing himself down on Cody’s other side. “Our gambisons are warm as anything I’ve seen here and easier to clean so they don’t reek.” He grinned at Geralt in the way Geralt had learned meant Rex was probably going to end up shouting. “You wanna try it out? You’re a little small for our armor, but General Kenobi had a set custom made for him and you’re of a size.”

Cody heaved a sigh. “And where is he keeping it, trooper? General Kenobi’s armor is long gone.”

Fives shrugged expansively. “Well, it’s probably with the rest of his tokens.”

It was an innocuous enough statement, but Cody reacted like Fives had told him Kenobi was carrying around a corpse. “What.”

Holding out his hands palm up in an illustrative gesture that meant nothing to Geralt Fives continued blithely, “His tokens. That’s where the herbs for the stew came from. He’s still got his pouch.”

Cody made a face like he’d bitten into spoiled meat. “Excuse me.”

Boil, however, was focused on Fives. “You saw the pouch?” he demanded keeping his voice low.

“Yes, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” Fives snapped. He didn’t roll his eyes because Boil ranked higher than him and was more stringent about backchat than Waxer.

“He has armor and he’s not wearing it! Excuse me, Geralt,” Boil said through gritted teeth, echoing Cody as he stalked towards Kenobi.

Fives sighed. “Of course the general’s not wearing armor,” he muttered to himself. “When has a Jedi ever had the sense to wear armor without at least a squad of troopers shoving their limbs into it?”

Boil spun to glare at him. “Shut your mouth, shiny.” Fives bristled, putting aside the armor he’d been cleaning.

Echo intervened before they went further. “Boil, the commander’s got this.”

“No. He really doesn’t.” Boil grimaced. “The general stopped wearing armor near the end of the war, about the time he stopped caring.” Echo elbowed Fives, who ducked his head in shame. Boil shook his head at them in exasperation before marching off.

Geralt kept his head down and his ears open, though Priscilla and Dandelion didn’t bother to hide their interest in the quiet argument breaking out between Cody and Kenobi. They were using that second foreign language that was all clipped vowels and sharp consonants. Echo walked past carrying two buckets of water. He kicked at Fives’ boot with his toe. “Five creds on the commander.”

“You’re betting against the Negotiator,” Fives said skeptically, but he didn’t take the bet.

Kix snapped something from where he was fiddling with the sputtering fire under a pot that was going to be swallow potion from the smell. “What’s he bitching about?” Geralt demanded tired of catching only half the conversation.

Both Fives and Echo seemed uncertain, but Kix translated for himself. “I said, the Negotiator was just Republic propaganda. The Separatists called Kenobi the Red General.”

“And that was one of their kinder epitaphs,” Kenobi called over wryly. He flicked his fingers making the fire Kix was struggling with flare bright white with magic before crackling merrily away.

Kix fell backwards like Kenobi had thrown a bomb at him, shouting in the witchers’ language. Both Cody and Kenobi went silent, turning to stare at the medic. There was no color in Kenobi’s face, the flush of confrontation draining away like he’d been stabbed in the belly.

Baring his teeth, Kix snarled at the mage with none of the deference the other witchers had shown to the man, “Don’t you dare use that filth near my brothers!”

Cody put a hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Rex, deal with your officer.”

“You were the medic at Mustafar,” Kenobi said, sounding more resigned than angry, holding up his hands so Kix could see he wasn’t calling anymore magic. “The one wearing mismatched armor.”

Kix nodded, glaring. “I was seconded to Surge, had to borrow some gear to replace damaged plates.”

Kenobi looked away, like he didn’t want to face Kix directly. “It’s fine, Commander. The lieutenant has his reasons to be angry.”

“Sir,” Cody said and it both was and wasn’t a question.

Kenobi gave a smile that just made him look sick. “Things got very messy at Mustafar, Commander. Now, I do have a set of armor compressed into a token. Perhaps Geralt might be interested in testing it out.”

“What, that’s it? You’re aren’t going to tell the commander why he was Vader’s favorite toy to break?” Kix bared his teeth. The only reason he wasn’t reaching for a weapon was Jesse’s hands clamped tight on his biceps.

Rex had heard enough. He snarled in the witchers’ language. The tone was so much like Vesemir’s Geralt jerked guiltily despite not being involved in the argument. The only reason Cody hadn’t lunged for Kix was Kenobi’s hand on his commander’s breastplate keeping him back.

“All of you… Shut up!” Yennefer snarled. She pushed herself up in the bedroll she’d claimed put as close to the fire as possible while still being safely under the canvas rain shelter Waxer and Boil had put up to keep their meager supplies dry. Her dark hair frizzed wildly around her face giving her appearance a feral edge. She’d been too tired to spell it flat and smooth before sleep. “I swear to all the gods, I will cut your vocal chords myself.” She glared indiscriminately. “You can kill each other after we lose the crazed madman hunting us. Until then, shut your pieholes and Let. Me. Sleep!”

Kix settled mulishly, leaning back into Jesse. “Apologies for waking you, Lady Yennefer,” he said grudgingly.

Yennefer sniffed. “Very well. Geralt, come to bed. I’m cold.” She settled back down rolling on her side expectantly. Geralt glanced at the other witchers expecting the eyerolls he’d get from his own brothers.

To his surprise, Fives grinned at him. “Better do as she says. A tired Jedi is a cranky Jedi.”

“I am not a fucking Jedi,” Yennefer barked without opening her eyes.

“Easy, Yen,” Geralt murmured as he unlaced his heavy, leather jerkin. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Cody turned to his own mage, murmuring in the Republican tongue, careful to keep his voice low. Kenobi grimaced then nodded, allowing himself to be guided to the pile of blankets which was Waxer. Waxer woke up just enough to hear Cody’s orders and nod his understanding before dragging one of the blankets over Kenobi. Boil settled on Kenobi’s other side, still scowling, but willing to put off the argument until Yennefer was less likely to start hexing people.

“We’ve got the watch, Geralt,” Rex said, clapping the other white-haired witcher on the shoulder.

“Wolf,” Geralt said softly. Rex gave him an odd look. “Feels strange to hear another witcher call me Geralt. My brothers, they call me White Wolf.”

Rex nodded. “I’ll let the boys know your Name. Thank you, Wolf.”

* * *

Geralt woke to the sound of steel on plate armor. The sun was up, casting a hazy light over the scene. Everything was quiet except for the loud, rasping noise echoing from the helm of the black knight. Cody stood his ground in front of the knight. As Geralt watched, Cody twisted out of the way of the magic blade, blocking by catching the black knight’s forearms against his saber. Even then he had to put both hands on the hilt to hold the black knight back.

Rex crouched down next to Geralt. “Get your people and the gear on the horses. We’ll slow Vader down.” He kept his voice low, eyes on the fight as Cody barely side-stepped another slash.

“Where are we meeting?” Geralt asked, pulling some bombs out of his back and passing them over to Rex, who nodded thanks.

“Waxer and Boil will stay with you. Keep going south. We’ll catch up.” Rex hefted a grapeshot bomb as there was a loud clang. Kix and Echo stood at the edge of the clearing with their bows strung. Kix nocked another and let fly so close it skimmed Cody’s shoulder before bouncing off the black knight.

Fives, axe in one hand, long knife in the other, rolled in low, slamming the axe into the back of the knight’s knee. When it caught he pushed himself backwards, hooking the knight’s leg. He almost lost his arm. Only Jesse dropping out of a tree and punching Vader in the face with an armored gauntlet saved him.

Geralt reached for his own blades. “Kenobi?”

“Vader brought some brothers with him. The general is making sure they take a nap.” Rex shook his head at Geralt’s questioning look. “Can’t risk trying to break the curse. The ritual takes too long. We’ll try to come back for them when we shake Vader. Save what you can and run, Wolf.”

Geralt put a hand on his arm. “We can try to take a few of them with us, Rex.”

Rex stood up smoothly with Geralt’s bombs hanging from his belt. “I wish we could, but we can’t defeat Vader, just delay him and outrun him. Kenobi’s not wrong about that. Get your people out of here.” He drew both his daggers and charged. Geralt didn’t wait to see what happened next. He whistled for Roach, bundling up Yen in blankets and wrapping the canvas around her before slinging her onto Roach’s back. Waxer and Boil, along with Dandelion and Priscilla, had already gotten the food and most of the tents onto the horses. Boil held them while bards ran around strapping things down so they wouldn’t tangle in the horses legs.

Yennefer reached down to take an armful of Geralt’s gear, not protesting the indignity of being loaded up like a sack of laundry. Geralt pulled his steel sword, for all the good it would do. “Yen, stay with the scouts. They’ll take your orders for the most part. Keep going all the way to Nilfgaard if you have to. Ciri will help.”

“Geralt,” Yen said sharply, reaching down to grab his arm, nails digging into his skin. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Geralt?” she repeated, higher and thready.

Wooley joined his brothers wielding one of the halberds. Seven witchers faced Vader, and they were losing. “All the way to Nilfgaard if you have to,” Geralt repeated. Then ran forward, matching pace with Jesse as they tried to bullrush Vader off his feet.

* * *

Rex did his headcount again just to be sure. Everyone had survived Vader’s attack. Kenobi was unconscious, drained by forcing Vader through a portal to the Force only knew where. Cody carried his general over one shoulder with the ease of practice. Fives was suffering from a well deserved concussion from being magically hurled head first into a tree after trying, and failing, to put his archer’s axe through Vader’s visor slot. Jesse had broken most of the fingers in his left hand trying to bash Vader’s helmet in. Wooley’s boot was ruined and a couple of toes were missing, but he was alive, which was all that mattered. Geralt had earned himself a cauterized slash that wrapped around his hip and went halfway down his thigh. However, he could walk and Kix had declared the wound ‘cosmetic’.

The bombs and Geralt’s magic had proved invaluable. Vader wasn’t used to fighting a brother who could spit fire right back at him. There was even a golden shimmer that hung next to Geralt’s skin and could block a lightsaber strike, though only for one blow as Geralt had discovered. In the Grand Army, there had never been any reason to train the flicker of magic most of the brother’s had. Why bother when the time could be dedicated to bladework or tactical analysis? The Jedi were there if any magic was needed.

“Fuck!” Geralt hissed pausing to lean against a try and adjusting his padded trousers. Kix had used some leather thongs and a dagger to make sure the pale brother didn’t have to walk around with everything hanging out. However, one of the cords was digging into the wound. There was fresh blood on the bandages haloing around where the leather rubbed when Geralt walked.

Rex nodded for Echo to take point and went to Geralt’s side. “You can’t keep walking on that, Wolf.”

Geralt’s eyes, the same colors and Rex’s and his brothers even if the rest of him looked washed out, narrowed. “I don’t particularly like the other choice,” he bit out, pain making him irritable.

Turning, Rex bent his knees. “Not what I meant. Hop up.” There was confused silence behind him. “You said you have brothers. You know how this works.”

“Yeah. Except I was usually the one doing the carrying.” Cautiously, hand settled on Rex’s shoulders. Rex dipped lower, hooking Geralt’s good leg on his elbow. More carefully he let Geralt maneuver the injured leg into place. When Rex stood he was wearing Geralt like a training pack. He weighed more than Rex was used to, but everything else about him felt less substantial. The layers of heavy armor seemed like a disguise to hide lanky limbs and bony points.

Cody nodded to them both when Rex caught up. “What took you so long?” he asked in the local language so Geralt would understand.

“He’s the one used to doing the carrying,” Rex replied.

Cody snorted. “That sounds familiar.” He eyed Geralt. “Are you like my little brother here? They gave you something to make you stronger and faster than baseline?”

“Multiple extra rounds of mutagens,” Geralt said. Despite his stoic facade a hint of surprise peeked through. “How did you know?”

“My hair went white too,” Rex pointed out dryly. “Did you think I just like looking pretty?”

Geralt didn’t say anything for a while. He did relax enough to let his head loll against the top of Rex’s helmet, eyes closed. “Never met one like me before,” he said quietly as Cody and Rex slowed to navigate a small stream without dropping their burdens. “Most of the boys they tried to improve died. Except for me.”

“I’m the only one who survived the experiment.” Rex heard the quiet huff of acknowledgement from above.

Cody interrupted their pity party by plowing into Rex’s shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. “You're still here because you’re the most stubborn brother I’ve ever met.”

“Look who’s talking, Marshal Commander.” Rex made like he was going to trip Cody but so flamboyantly Cody hopped over the outstretched foot with ease. “This stubborn _shabuir_ was the only brother who outranked Jedi.”

Geralt chuckled softly. “No one outranks a mage in a snit.” That drew a string of quiet laughs as the others overheard. Geralt jerked towards the noise before remembering they were all the same, with ears much more sensitive than a human’s.

A moment later a quiet whistle went up from the front of the pack. Wooley had found something. Cody, Rex, Geralt, and Kenobi ended up in the center of the cluster of other witchers since they weren't in a position to draw steel. There was crashing noise in the woods. Something was headed their way at speed. But it didn’t sound, or smell, like a monster or predatory animals. Boil shoved his way through the underbrush. There was blood smeared across his white armor.

“Kix!” he bellowed. “Kix, come fast. The lady mage is injured.” He was speaking Mando’a, too intent on getting the medic to think of anything else. Boil turned and ran back the way he came, with Kix and Jesse on his heels.

Cody translated for Geralt as Rex swore up a storm. Rex started running before Geralt could get the bright idea to try to follow on his game leg. “Fives, get out in front and clear me a fucking path.”

“Yes, sir!” Fives charged ahead of Rex using his hand and his axe to clear branches so Rex or Geralt wouldn’t get hung up.

Next to Rex, Cody was keeping pace. With how skinny Kenobi had gotten he could have pulled ahead. “Rex, do you remember those potions the Jedi used when they ran low on magic?” Rex grunted. “If we can find something like that, the general can heal Lady Yennefer.”

“Kix might carry something like that for Vader. Doesn’t he have to be conscious to use it?” Rex demanded between gulps of air.

“He’ll be conscious,” Cody promised with a ruthless smile.

Kix had Lady Yennefer laid out on a ground cloth with the fabric cut away from stomach and Jesse holding her head by the time the slower group made it to the others. The crimson gouge that emerged from her limp, dark hair and ran almost to her right eye silently evidenced why she hadn’t healed the wound in her stomach.

Waxer had a bard in each arm, trying to calm them down. Both were talking over each other, demanding to know what Kix was doing and where Geralt was. Boil was repacking their supplies from the slapdash mess that had been tossed on the horses.

“Kix?” Rex asked as he let Geralt slide off his back.

“She’s not waking up, but she’s not dying at the moment,” Kix reported as he pried off the crusted rag bandages that had once been the woman’s skirt. “I think her skull might be fractured. A Jedi would be real handy right now.”

Cody slung Kenobi off his shoulders. “Boil, pull another ground cloth. I need somewhere to put the General.”

“There’s potions in my gear,” Geralt snapped. “Dandelion, get the Swallow. And the Petri’s Philter.” He knelt next to his mage but kept his hands to himself, trusting Kix to work. “They’re witcher potions. Toxic to humans.”

Kix hovered a cupped hand protectively above Lady Yennefer’s face. “Not her. At this point any change is bad.”

“How the fuck did this happen?” Geralt demanded in a growl to match his namesake.

“Bandits,” Waxer said as both bards started trying to apologize. “Kenobi missed one of our boys, so Boil fell back to deal with him quietly. I was scouting ahead and found an ambush. They had bows. Lady Yennfer was hit in the stomach. She fell off her horse and hit her head before I could get to her.” His jaw was clenched tight. Rex knew Waxer had made a decision. With his psuedo-Jedi down, he’d focused on the bandits to protect the two humans in his charge. He probably hadn’t known about Lady Yennefer’s head until it was too late.

Fives kicked over one of the bodies. “Shit, brother, how many were there?”

“Seventeen,” the blonde bard, Penelope?, said quietly. “If it wasn’t for Sir Waxer, we’d be dead.”

“Don’t worry, Lady Priscilla, Waxer and Boil know their business” Cody said. He’d always been better with names than Rex. He’d dumped Kenobi on the groundsheet and was tugging him onto his back. “Kix, do we have any of those recharge potions?”

Kix glanced over. “No, and even if I did he’d have to be awake for it. That looks a lot like magic burn out to me.”

“I can get him up. Wolf, you said you had something?” Cody asked as he started the process of unlatching his vambraces.

Geralt dug around his pack coming up with a vial of violently purple liquid. “It’ll make him sicker than a nekker with sunburn but he’ll be able to do magic.” He tossed the vial to Rex who crouched down next to Cody as his brother finished removing the top half of his plate armorer. “Oh shit,” Rex said horrified as Cody started to undo the ties that held his gambison shut. “He didn’t.”

“What makes you think that General Kenobi made the decision?” Cody pulled his gambison open far enough to reveal the sigil tattooed over his heart. In the center of the sigil was a small lump of scar tissue. Cody pulled the knife from his boot and dug the tip into the scar until blood beaded up. He dipped his fingers in the blood. “I just hope there’s something left in the reservoir.” Then he forced his bloody fingers into his general’s mouth.

“Is that a blood ritual?” Geralt rasped in shock.

“It’s stupid is what it is,” Rex snarled. The reservoir sigil was Aayla Secura’s invention. It allowed Jedi to store magic in another living body for later. Since the sigil only worked if the bearer had the ability to use magic, General Secura had put the first sigil on Bly. It was the only use the brothers had ever made of their connection to the Force and if a Jedi wasn’t careful to only pull from the reservoir they could drain the sigil bearer of his magic, then his life. Rex hadn’t known Cody had been stupid enough to take the risk.

Kenobi choked on the blood in his mouth. Rex lunged forward with Cody to pin the Jedi to the ground. “Sir,” Cody said loudly near Kenobi’s ear, “I used my mark. The magic is yours, don’t fight it.” Kenobi’s eyes opened, flashing the unearthly blue as the bit of his power which had lingered in Cody rejoined the rest. Cody took the vial from Rex. Rex leaned down and yanked the cork out his teeth. Kenobi lifted his head so Cody could tip the potion down his throat.

“Ugh,” Kenobi hissed trying to squirm away. “That is positively foul.”

“And toxic,” Cody said cheerfully. “You need to heal Lady Yennefer. Then purge this shit from your system.”

“Ah. Help me up.” Cody lifted Kenobi up, supporting most of his weight as he staggered to Lady Yennefer’s side.

Kix gestured to the head wound. “Skull’s probably fractured. Start there. The gut wound isn’t that bad. I flushed it and packed it with bacta salve. It’ll keep.”

“Kix, I’m not Master Che.” Kenobi’s fingers hovered a hand over the one Jesse was using to keep Lady Yennefer’s head tilted back.

“You don’t have to fix her,” Geralt snapped, “just get her well enough she can fix herself.”

“Easy, brother.” Kix lifted a blanket and brought it up to cover where he’d cut the woman’s clothes away. “Mop up the blood so the pressure doesn’t cause more damage and make sure her brain is in one piece. If Lady Yennefer is like a Jedi that should be enough.”

Kenobi grimaced. Anything with the head was delicate work usually left to master healers. “I’m not sure I should do this. Surely we could try a potion first and give her a chance to heal herself? If I do this wrong she might not be able to fix my mistakes.”

Kix bared his teeth. “Don’t you dare back down now, Kenobi. I’m not losing another one. Not to you. Now shut the fuck up and I’ll show your where to push the magic.”

Blue light gathered around Kenobi’s hand before Rex or Cody could take their brother to task. “Very well, Kix. Tell me what to do.”

They ended up slinging Lady Yennefer, only partially healed, onto a horse with Kix to monitor her. Lady Priscilla and Dandelion volunteered to walk to give the horses a rest. Kenobi, awake but not aware as he purged Geralt’s potion from his body, went back over Cody’s shoulder.

Rex picked up on Geralt hesitating about whether to head back into the woods or keep to the road to make it easier on their injured. “If we keep going south we’ll get to Temaria then Nilfgaard,” Geralt said with the forced calm of a man who’s injured lover was depending on another man. “We have friends in both places. But Nilfgaard. If we can get to Nilfgaard, that black bastard can come at us all he wants. Ciri, our daughter, and I’ll cut him to pieces.”

Cody nodded to Rex. “We’re going to Nilfgaard too, little brother.”

“Kenobi tell you something?” Rex demanded.

“It got hairy for a moment, with Vader.” Cody reached up and tapped his helmet to indicate the Jedi had spoken in his mind. “I know how to find Lady Padme.” Rex ground his teeth, because of course Kenobi would wait until the last possible moment to tell them need-to-know information. Kenobi’s habit of hoarding secrets had thrown General Skywalker into near tantrums for most of the war. Nothing had changed apparently.

Kix hit Jesse’s shoulder to get him moving. “Then we’re going south,” he barked. “Come on, I don’t like standing out in the open with a patient.”

* * *

“That’s two hundred Redanian troops between us and the most direct route through the mountains,” Geralt growled, hopping off his mount. He held out his hands to assist Priscilla in sliding down after him.

The rest of their party was waiting further back up the road well away from the fortifications of the Nilfgaardian outpost. An armed party marching up was bad for the nerves of a guard detachment caught between the remains of the Redanian army hiding in the countryside across multiple countries and the new Temerarian vassal state flexing its claws. They had made it to the border between Cintra and Nazair on the wrong side of the mountains from Sodden.

One of the horses had gone under when they’d forded the Yugruga River head on to escape a squadron of white-armored soldiers in the distance. Geralt, Rex, and Cody had decided against replacing it since it would require stopping. They went around anything larger than a cluster of huts. The paranoia was pervasive enough Geralt hadn’t even suggested trying to contact Vernon Roche for aid.

The groups of refugees on the road no longer avoided them since their dirty clothes and thin cheeks blended in despite the armor. Novigrad to Nazair in eight days, and they showed every mile.

“There’s about a company of Nilfgaardian infantry and maybe a platoon of cavalry,” Priscilla said, embracing her lover. Dandelion had not been pleased at Priscilla’s insistence at joining Geralt in scouting out the situation, but she spoke Nilfgaardian and was, most importantly, not a known associate of Geralt’s.

Geralt nodded in agreement. “Without more men, there’s no way the Nilfgaardians are going to be able to pry the Redanian company out of the pass. They can keep them pinned down until spring when they can bring another force up from Nazair.”

Priscilla concluded for Geralt, “No one’s crossing that pass until the thaw.”

“We could head west, use a portal to do short jumps then finish the crossing on foot,” Yennefer said tightly. Her lovely black hair had been carefully parted out into two, lopsided braids and tied out of the way so Kix could check the bandage on her headwound without it tangling. Kix reached up and resettled the rough hem of the blanket that had become her new skirt.

“Even portalling short distances will draw Vader’s attention. How long will it take us to get to the next viable crossing on foot?” Kenobi asked, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The pace they’d been maintaining was exhausting for the witchers. The mages were worn thin and sharp, draining themselves to power the spells that kept the horses from dying, while Dandelion and Priscilla didn’t so much ride their exhausted mount as drift along while it was led by Fives.

Geralt looked to Dandelion. He’d never been this far south before so the bard had been acting as the party’s guide. “It’ll be at least another two weeks, maybe a month if the weather continues to worsen. We could go east but the passes may not be survivable.”

Kenobi looked over at Cody and Rex. The two officers shared a loaded glance before looking back at the mage. “It’ll be a month, sir,” Cody said flatly. “You’re going to run out of magic sooner than later.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to cross here.” Kenobi swung down off his mount. “Wooley, find somewhere appropriate for a base camp. Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Echo, I want to know exactly how many Redanians we’re dealing with and their position. If they have anything nasty up their sleeves, it’d be best to know ahead of time. Cody, Rex, I need an infiltration strategy. Preferably one that doesn’t include the words ‘head long charge’. If we can go around we will.” The last statement seemed aimed at Rex more than Cody.

“Are you mad?” Yennefer demanded. “Even if we can convince the Nilfgaardians to help us, which is unlikely, the Redanians no doubt have siege weapons and fortifications.”

Kenobi smiled up at her patting their horse’s neck. “No doubt they do. Luckily we have a Master Jedi, the most feared sorceress in the north, Geralt of Rivia, and two of the best attack squadrons to ever leave Kamino with us.”

Kix put a reassuring hand on Yennefer’s calf. He hadn’t been far from her side since her injury. Geralt suspected the way Kenobi and Yennefer avoided each other was a greater motivation than concern for the sorceress's injuries . “Don’t worry, my lady. We’ve had worse odds,” the medic assured her.

“Two hundred men, Kix.” Yennefer put a hand on Kix’s helmet with the same angry fear she had once held Ciri. “Don’t be foolish.”

“I heard tales of the Battle of Sodden Hill, Lady Yennefer. Why do you fear a mere two hundred men?” Kenobi crossed his arms leaning back one leg, expectant for an answer.

Yennefer bared her teeth at him. “I nearly died that day, you bastard. And I was facing less than two hundred men.” Geralt knew it wasn’t Sodden Hill she was thinking of. Their stand at Kaer Morhan and later in Skelliege against the _Aen Elle_ had broken something in Yennefer which had first fractured at Sodden Hill. It wasn’t the death or the killing, Geralt suspected, but the suffocating fear of watching her few, dear friends throw themselves into the fray knowing they might not come back. With Ciri’s life at risk she’d done whatever she felt necessary. Now she found some reason to yell every time Geralt took a contract. With her injuries guaranteeing that she couldn’t follow him in battle, he wasn’t surprised she was baulking more than usual.

“You were unprepared at Sodden, Yennefer.” Unshaken by the sparks of magic dancing around Yennefer’s hands Obi-Wan steadied the horse with a gentle hand on its nose. “With mages who’d never known true battle and peasants with no choice. I spent many years in the field with Ghost Company. Rex and his men served with my apprentice for just as long. Pick any man among them to stand with you and you will have him as well as Geralt at your back.”

“Dandelion and I aren’t warriors, Yen, but if you give us some clubs we’ll be able to whack anybody who gets too close,” Priscilla said from where she rested against Dandelion.

Yennefer eyed Kenobi like she was considering demonstrating to him exactly how capable she was in combat. Jesse quickly shouldered Kenobi out of the way and took the reins of Yennefer’s mount. “Let’s give Waxer and Boil a chance to scout, milady. If it’s unfeasible Geralt, Rex, and Cody will figure out something else.” The marked exclusion of Kenobi from the decision process made Yennefer roll her eyes. She knew she was being handled, but Kix and Jesse had slipped into the same gap in the sorceress’ armor as Eskel.

“Very well, but Kix and Jesse will remain with me,” she informed Kenobi haughtily. She might have wanted to order Geralt to stay, but she held herself back to just glaring at him instead of barking orders.

Kenobi gave her a flourishing, courtly bow. “As you wish, Lady Yennefer.”

* * *

Cody crouched next to a bare patch of earth, sketching the pass with a stick. Waxer settled next to him putting stones with symbols scratched on them in the appropriate places on the rough map. Boil was cleaning his knife with the kind of care that suggested he’d used it. The blue armored witchers stood a little further back, waiting patiently for Cody to finish. Rex had his arms crossed casually, standing directly behind Cody, close enough Geralt was a little concerned about Cody headbutting him when he stood up.

“We’ve got a couple squadrons of archers, but they’re watching the main path. The problem is that they’ve got two mangonels and a small trebuchet. From their position, they’ve already been sighted in on the lower switchback. Anyone trying to come up the path is going to be turned into paste in short order,” Waxer explained, pointing at the appropriate stones. “I couldn’t get a good look at the ammo situation, but if they’re smart they’ll have made more from the local granite. I definitely saw tar barrels next to the trebuchet.”

Cody nodded and made a note next to the stone indicating the trebuchet’s position. “A frontal assault is completely out. Sorry, Rex, I don’t think even the five-oh-first can bull through this.”

“I’m fine with avoiding a suicidal headlong charge,” Rex replied dryly, leaning over Cody to get a better look. “But I don’t see any other way up.”

Waxer tapped one of the lines on the map indicating a nearly sheer cliff which provided the perfect overlook across the valley. “There’s minimal coverage here. A few archers and an officer on watch. It gets us behind the siege weapons and the archers.”

“Nine of us, if the White Wolf cares to join.” Cody smiled grimly. “I hope you kept your saber, General Kenobi. Because we won’t break the Redanian lines without a Jedi.”

Kenobi crossed his arms, fingers plucking at the cuffs of his sleeves. “You mean to scale the cliff face then?”

“Are you mad?” Yennefer interrupted. “Geralt might be able to climb that, but all you need is one of the sentries spotting you on the way up and all they have to do is tip some boulders over the edge.”

“I’m not sure I could free climb that with my gear on,” Geralt admitted. “It’s sheer granite. And pitons are noisy.”

“We can’t free climb it. But a Jedi can. The general and I will do the initial climb then secure and drop ropes for everyone else. I’ll handle the sentries while General Kenobi uses a ‘notice-me-not’ illusion to cover your ascent. Just like Felucia when we brought down the mage tower.” Cody sketched out his plan with a stick as he spoke.

Rex nudged his brother with his knee. “We had Skywalker, the commander, and the Blue Death battalion with us at Felucia.”

“There were also twelve hundred golems and four seppie companies at Felucia, sir,” Fives said, poking one of the stones before Waxer slapped his hand away. “Two hundred humans is easy.” Echo elbowed him, hissing in the sharper vowels Geralt was learning to recognize as the witcher-brothers’ private language instead of the language of the fallen Republic.

Boil cleared his throat, waiting for Cody and Rex to acknowledge him before speaking. “Not to agree with Fives, sir, but the kid’s right. If we hit them fast and quiet, have the Wolf use his little firestarter trick on the explosive barrels…” He shrugged. “We’ve faced worse odds, Captain. The two-twelfth isn’t going to back down.”

Cody gave his man a thin smile. “Well, Captain, what does the five-oh-first say?”

Rex tipped his head to Fives, who was practically vibrating. “Has the five-oh-first ever left you gold-stripers hanging, Commander?” Rex asked with a crooked smile. Cody reached up and they clasped each other’s wrists with the ease of familiar gesture. “That just leaves our Jedi.”

Rex and Cody looked over at Kenobi who was rubbing his thumb along the misshapen knob of his wrist. “I can’t ask you to do this, gentlemen. Your desire to aid Lady Padme is appreciated, but this isn’t a night breakthrough we’re talking about. Besides the risk of battle, Vader will hear if we succeed and he will know it was us. Any chance you have of escaping his notice will be gone. It will make it much harder to save more of your brothers going forward.”

“With all due respect, Obi-Wan, you aren’t asking. We’re telling you.” Cody pulled himself up with Rex’s arm with the quiet clank of his armor. “Lady Padme and General Skywalker’s children are on the other side of those Redianians. We swore to protect the Republic and the Jedi Order. We failed, but those three are the last legitimate heirs to the Republic and the Jedi. Even if you turn back now, we won’t.”

“You were little better than slaves when you made those oaths, Cody. No one would blame you for not fulfilling them.” Kenobi dropped his arms, glancing over uncomfortably at the small knot of other non-witchers.

Cody shook his head. “That might be true, but we’ve decided to hold to them as free men. This isn’t your decision, Obi-Wan. If you can't order me to take that pass, you can’t order me not to.”

“Did you know, Lady Yennefer,” Kenobi said like he hadn’t heard the ultimatum, “that the Senate was convinced I was the high lord general of the Grand Army of the Republic? And that Cody was just my aid-de-camp.”

Yennefer bared her teeth in a smile. “Obviously they didn’t listen very well or they would know Cody had all the common sense. The longer we travel the slower we get. We don’t have a month to waste. If Vader catches up to us again before I’m behind fortress walls with my daughter because you’re being precious, then you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.” It was clear from her tone that Vader wouldn’t be responsible for Kenobi’s demise.

“Then I best dress for the occasion. Lady Yennefer, we’ll need invisibility charms. Cody, Rex, I believe I can augment our resources.” Kenobi pulled a pouch off his belt. “You remember how to use these?” He tossed the pouch to Cody, who poured out a small pile of gold and silver tokens onto his palm.

Cody spoke in the brother’s language. It was an insult, but a fondly exasperated one. Then he threw one of the tokens on the ground. There was a snap and the fizzy feeling of magic as the token’s compression spell consumed the enchanted metal, leaving behind a pile of assorted supplies a foot high, including silk rope and chain. Cody picked through the rest of the tokens pulling out another which contained pitons, leather strapping, and grappling hooks. He poured the rest of the tokens back into the pouch and attached it to his belt. “Put on your damn armor, sir. Waxer, clean the general up to parade standard.”

“Yes, sir!” Waxer clapped his hands happily before settling them on Kenobi’s shoulders. “Into the river with you, general.” Kenobi let himself be dragged down the bank.

“Kix, Jesse, get Lady Yennefer and her people some hot water,” Rex ordered.

Echo filled Geralt in on the seemingly nonsensical orders. “Old GAR tradition. You take a bath and clean your kit before doing something suicidially stupid. So at least you don’t have to smell yourself.”

“Are you complaining about a chance to clean up?” Fives demanded, already pulling off his own armor.

Rex caught the young witcher by the shoulder. “Not so fast, rookie,” he growled. “You and Echo are on watch with Wooley.”

“Captain,” Fives whined, but subsided under Rex’s glare. “Yes, sir.” He sulked off to stand opposite of Wooley. Echo remained long enough to get a few quiet words of reassurance from Rex, followed by a gentle smack to his pauldron.

Rex gestured for Geralt to follow him down to the river. Kix and Jesse had set up one of their small tents for Yennefer and Priscilla to use. Jesse was going back and forth with a basin that seemed to be enchanted to heat the water since it was steaming by the time he reached the tent. “Kix and Jesse were assigned to Lady Padme whenever she came to visit General Skywalker,” Rex reassured Geralt. “They’re very respectful and discrete.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about Yen. She can take care of herself. I don’t suppose there’s another one of those basins?” Geralt eyed the hot water hopefully.

Rex grinned. “Sorry, Wolf. That’s Kix’s toy. You want hot water, you have to ask the medic.”

Geralt weighed the irritation of having a pseudo-doctor poke his injuries versus hot water. “Well, he wanted to put some stitches in my hip anyways.” Cauterization or not, a long march was never good news for a leg injury, and Geralt’s wasn’t closing properly, much to Kix’s frustration.

Yen rolled her eyes when she saw Geralt waiting for his turn with the hot water and the tent. Geralt just shrugged. He didn’t see any reason to scrub down in a cold river when there was an alternative. When Geralt escaped Kix’s clutches with a line of stitches down his hip under a linen pad and skin flushed from the heat of the water, Kenobi was sitting on a stump, wrapped in a blanket, and looking like a drowned cat as Boil hacked away at his ratty beard. Jesse, in another display of random skill, was braiding Yennefer’s hair. Priscilla’s hair was already braided and bound tightly around her head in a practical but foreign style.

Cody and Rex were checking ropes, both clean shaven and noticeably less rank with the bitter smell of blade oil perfuming the air around them. Fives, Wooley, and Echo were in the river, with Waxer and Kix on watch. Geralt’s kit had been laid out next to Echo’s, with a box with rags, oils, polish, and whetstones nearby.

“Geralt,” Dandelion hissed from next to Roach, “those witchers are being inappropriate with Priscilla!”

Geralt glanced over at Priscilla, who seemed to be enjoying the view as Fives dunked Echo only to get his legs knocked out from under him. “Dandelion, the only ones who have been near Priscilla are Jesse and Kix, and I’m fairly sure they aren’t interested in women.”

Dandelion waved his hand at the witchers in the river. “Geralt,” he repeated desperately, “how am I supposed to compete with that!” Wooley had gotten tired of the younger witchers’ antics, had them both in headlocks, one under each arm, and was dunking them repeatedly while they flailed.

Geralt resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “If she’s put up with you for this long, she’s not going to toss you off for a pretty soldier who’s in the middle of a magical war half a world away.”

Perking up at the reminder, Dandelion gestured at Geralt’s blades and crossbow. “I went through and cleaned everything. Even your armor, which, Geralt, I found drowner blood in your mail. You’ve haven’t killed any drowners in weeks.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt cut off the nervous tirade. “Thank you.” He wasn’t just talking about the armor.

Dandelion grinned brilliantly. “I need new material, Geralt! Someone recently told me my catalog was stale. Stale! I mean, the timing of this whole unfortunate situation couldn’t be better. You have to convince Cody to tell me how he and Kenobi met.” He tipped his head consideringly. “The forbidden love, the unwilling betrayal, their reunification after you broke the curse which had separated them! I already have a chorus!”

“As progressive as Novigrad claims to be with the Niflgaardians in charge, I think a romantic lay about two men, a witcher and mage at that, might not be warmly received,” Geralt said uncertainly, resigning himself to breaking up the inevitable riots. “What makes you say they’re in love anyways?”

“Pish,” Dandelion said with a careless wave of his hand. “This Republic is half a world away. A little artistic license and who’s to say a Jedi general can’t be a beautiful woman instead of a handsome man? And have you watched them Geralt! The longing in their eyes, never requited. The way they linger at each brush of the hands.” He clasped his own hands in front him with a deep, satisfied sigh.

Geralt shook his head at his old friend. “I’ll let you tell Kenobi that he’s a beautiful sorceress. Yen probably won’t let him turn you into a frog.” While Dandelion squawked in dismay Geralt pulled on his freshly cleaned armor with only a preliminary check. For all of the bard’s ditziness, he’d always come through when it mattered.

“Well,” Yennefer said, keeping her voice low as she adjusted the belt of her hastily made pants which had been stitched together from the rags of her skirt, “he cleans up better than I expected.”

Waxer and Boil had finished with their general, and it was clear the man had once been everything the foreign witchers had talked about. The ratty beard had been shaved back into a short, neat goatee, and the greasy horsetail was gone, leaving a clean, copper fringe streaked through with the beginnings of gray hair. Kenobi wore a long, dark brown leather gambeson that went to just above his knees with a cream tabard over top, held in place by his wide belt. The silver hilt of his magical sword hung in plain view at his waist. A short curved shortsword, like a miniaturized version of Cody’s saber, hung from the back of his belt with the hilt protruding just past his hip.

There was a strange combination of gorget with attached pauldrons locked around his neck with the plates layered laminar style. It was made of the same white plate as his soldiers’ armor, edged in gold. It seemed more of a nod to armor than actual protection to Geralt, since Kenobi’s chest and stomach were only covered by the gambeson. Though, taken with the rest of his gear, it was obvious his belt doubled as protection against a dagger to the kidneys.

When Kenobi flexed his fingers, Geralt could see that his armored gauntlets were weighted with small, protruding spikes over the knuckles. Those would hit like brass knuckles and tear like claws. It wasn’t the kind of armor modification Geralt expected from a mage.

Cody put a hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. They didn’t speak, but Kenobi closed his eyes and turned his face towards his former commander. Cody gripped the shorter man’s chin between his fingers and applied a thick line of protective kohl around Kenobi’s eyes. All the bowmen among the other witchers wore it, including Cody himself. It reminded Geralt of the Offeri soldiers he’d been forced to fight during the mess with Olgierd von Everec. Except the few he’d seen apply it had done it themselves.

Cody used his thumb to clean a smudge beneath Kenobi’s eye before letting his fingers drop lower, ghosting the raised red and white rope of scar revealed by the goatee. It started just behind Kenobi’s ear and ran down, following the bottom of his jaw almost the point of his chin. Geralt could almost see the awkward blow from Cody’s boot knife that had made it. Cody had slashed from the front with the blade in a reverse grip. That was the only reason Kenobi was alive, since he’d been able to twist so the blade caught on bone rather than digging deep in the delicate muscles and veins of the neck. Apparently, Kenobi hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Cody had cut his throat.

Kenobi put his hand over Cody’s, lifting his chin just enough to look into the witcher’s eyes. It was odd seeing it from the outside, witcher and mage speaking in each other’s minds. If Yennefer hadn’t pushed her way into Geralt’s head countless times Geralt might not have recognized the situation. Neither of them gave any indicator of the content of the conversation.

Rex jostled Cody as he walked past muttering a jibe in the witchers’ language. Cody sighed theatrically, rolling his eyes. “Gear check in ten,” he said, stepping away from Kenobi with no sign of embarrassment at being caught by one of his brothers.

Dandelion and Priscilla were staring and whispering furiously, passing a scrap of parchment back and forth. When Dandelion saw Geralt watching, he windmilled his arms in a series of gestures Geralt didn’t want to admit he understood. If Dandelion came up with anything like the ballads he’d written about Geralt and Yennefer, Geralt was going to owe Cody many, many drinks.

Yennefer made a soft, considering noise. “So that’s not against his bloody rules. Interesting.” She turned to Kix who was checking the locking joints of his halberd. “How long were Cody and Kenobi… together, before the coup?” She used the euphemism to avoid offending Kix on his brother’s behalf.

Kix’s lip curled slightly. Jesse answered before his partner could speak. “They weren’t. It wasn’t any secret that the only brother more gone on his Jedi was Bly. There were rumors of course, but when… When Lord Vader asked Cody, Cody told him nothing had happened.”

“I forgot about that mess,” Kix admitted looking back down at his weapon. “A lot of things from the beginning of the coup are fuzzy.” He looked up at Yennefer. “Is that an expected side-effect, my lady?”

“A demon was playing with your head, Kix,” Yennefer said with more gentleness than Geralt expected, “problems with your memory are to be expected. The mind is a delicate thing no matter who you are. Manipulation of it has unpredictable effects.” She looked back over at Kenobi who was giving orders to Waxer and Boil. “So you’re telling me that this is new?”

Jesse ducked his head to hide a smile while Kix snorted. “No, Lady Yennefer,” Kix said wryly, “this isn’t new because they’ve always been thick bastards.”

With a nod of agreement, Jesse leaned forward lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I’ve got money on it being at least another two decades before Kenobi unbends enough to let Cody drag him into a tent.”

“Wait, how long did the war last before the coup?” Geralt demanded. A decade wasn’t much to mage or a witcher, but Jesse had said ‘another’.

Jesse and Kix exchanged a meaningful look before Kix answered. “We spent fifteen years training before the war started. It was another four or five years before we were assigned Jedi generals. Cody served as General Kenobi’s commander for twenty-six Republican years before the coup. Roughly twenty years by the local calendar. The war ended eighteen years ago.”

Yennefer hissed out a breath between her teeth. “That bastard. He let me think he was younger than me.”

Geralt was stuck on the idea of twenty years of war. Sure, it was more or less comparable to what the north had endured before Emhyr finally won, but Nilfgaard had come in waves. There had been peace in the times between, to grow crops and repair some of the damage. It was hard to imagine that there was anything left of Kenobi’s Republic, even without the politics. Jesse picked up on Geralt’s quiet horror. “It’s actually gotten better under the emperor. If not as good as the Republic when General Kenobi was an apprentice. The Republic died slow. By the time the war started, things were already ugly all around. The Empire at least ended the famines, set up hospitals, and sent supplies and money to rebuild the worst hit areas.”

“It’s better except for the fact that the Jedi forbade the use of ritual sacrifice in magic,” Kix cut in bitterly. “Dark magic, unwilling blood magic, it takes a toll on the land as well as the people who live there.”

“Blood magic?” Yennefer’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean necromancy? Raising the dead?”

Jesse put a hand on Kix’s shoulder in warning. “Probably. It’s not like our language tutor was a mage. I’ve seen Sith raise the dead. It was forbidden by the Jedi. Though the Dathomirian witches were allowed to for some reason. Echo would know.”

Yennefer accepted the obvious dodge with more grace than usual. “I will ask Echo when I have a moment.” Jesse took the opportunity to wave down Rex and ask about sentry shifts for daylight rest and avoid further questions entirely.

Obi-Wan stared up the sheer, granitic cliff face flexing his fingers absently. He’d forgotten the weight of his gauntlets. “Ready for this?” Cody asked in Basic, so much smoother than the northern common tongue Obi-Wan had gotten used to hearing.

“I thought I left this behind after Grievous.” Obi-Wan considered the sharpened spikes running up his vambraces, strong enough to chip golem stone and make it easier to escape a hold. “The throat-cutting at least.” He reached up to rub a hand over his own scar.

“It’ll be less bloody than the alternative,” Cody reminded him with no joy. The aphorism came from Alpha who’d been Obi-Wan’s first clone officer and Cody’s arms-master. Though Cody didn’t meet Obi-Wan’s eyes with a smile like he would have before to be reminded of the man.

Obi-Wan smiled grimly, tossing his head to get his fringe out of his eyes. Waxer had cut his hair into the style Obi-Wan had favored near the end of the war when he’d given up the last vestiges of his vanity. There just wasn’t any way to keep the bloody mud that held the golems together out of anything.

Cody studied the cliff face. “I’ll go first.” He was the heaviest, so any handhold or foothold that could support him would definitely support Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan could see a few feet in front of him in the dim light of the half-moon, but it wasn’t his eyes he’d be using. Cody pulled off his helmet tilting his head down, lips slightly parted like he was waiting for a kiss.

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan gathered the spell on the back of his tongue. The blinding hex had been a cruel trick. Their habit of Obi-Wan passing spells in an exhale of mist-like energy had come from their early days together when Obi-Wan’s command had been a commando squadron. What had started as a way to discreetly ensorcel Cody with useful augments was something else by the end of the war. Something they never talked about. Using it against Cody, even though he’d been under the influence of a curse, had been underhanded even for Obi-Wan.

Cody brought his hand up to cup the back of Obi-Wan’s head so his arm would block the sparks of light. “You don’t get to be sorry about keeping me from killing you, sir. Now shut up and use my eyes.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth and released the curl of magic. It slipped between Cody’s lips soundlessly, making his eyes flare like they were backlit, golden sparks on either side of the blown pupil. Then Obi-Wan could see himself even more clearly than Cody in the dim light. Cody braced him while he sorted through the new, dual perspective.

Obi-Wan tapped his fingertip against the largest spike on the opposite gauntlet ,drawing a drop of blood. “Before we start, I’d like to charge your mark.” Cody didn’t reply, just moved the mask away from his mouth before delicately sucking on the tip of the bloodied finger. Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek as the moment lasted much longer than he remembered. Thick, fat curls of power pulled away from the light in his center, coming to rest over Cody’s heart.

“Very well. Shall we climb,” Obi-Wan said, trying not to noticeably snatch his hand back.

“Yes, sir.” Cody’s laconic response hid amusement.

Obi-Wan cast a minor illusion that was less invisibility and more mundanity. No one looked twice at something that was supposed to be there. Then they started to climb. The press of Cody’s thoughts was as familiar as Obi-Wan’s own, even after all these years. Cody’s mind was neat and orderly, his thoughts linear and easy to interpret.

For so long, Obi-Wan had presumed it a part of the alterations made during the cloning process. Now, he was sure this was why all the clones were witchers. The inhuman shape to Geralt’s projected thoughts was nearly identical to the tidy, well controlled streams of information in Cody’s head. It wasn’t that witchers didn’t feel deeply, but emotions were less overwhelming, more controlled. For Jedi, whose use of magic emphasized telepathy and empathy, they were the perfect companions. The perfect traps.

It was Geralt’s mind, so familiar after years of silence, that had Obi-Wan sharing a bottle of wine with him. Dizzy with alcohol and a man who felt like Cody even though they were nothing alike, Obi-Wan had drawn Vader’s attention. One day he would learn.

A voice, so dear it ached, whispered silently, _“If you’re going to be maudlin you can wait until we crack open the casks.”_

_“Apologies,”_ Obi-Wan replied and focused on his hand holds. The climb went quickly with Cody’s eyes to find the path. Right before Cody crossed the last overhang, he paused to look down over the valley below. He could see the shadows where his brothers waited, a flash of something pale that could be armor or Geralt’s hair. Obi-Wan looked too, though all he could see was black with his own eyes.

Then it was time for what they did best. Obi-Wan cast a silencing spell with a flick of his fingers as Cody swung himself onto the rock ledge where the first sentry was posted. There was no sound, which was to be expected, but Obi-Wan noticed Cody had broken the man’s neck rather than cut his throat.

Obi-Wan did use his knife on two more sentries while Cody finished off the last watcher on the cliff with an arm around his neck. Cody took a token out of his cheek, tucked safely where it couldn’t be lost, and dropped it on the ground where it became spikes and heavy ropes. Most clones had never bothered to learn to use their flicker of magic, since it was nothing compared to a Jedi’s abilities. Obi-Wan had to invent whole new seals and sigils that unwound with no more power than Cody’s spark. It was good to see Cody hadn’t forgotten how to use them.

They staked the ropes in under the silencing spell, using rocks as hammers, letting the rope tails fall down the cliff face. Then Obi-Wan very delicately reached out and found Yennefer’s mind below. He hadn’t truly touched minds with another mage since Anakin, and Yennefer’s mind was enough like Anakin’s that he could feel the bile in the back of his throat. Not for Yennefer herself, who was as brilliant as she was arrogant, but for whatever flaw in Obi-Wan’s instruction that let Anakin lose himself while Yennefer stood strong against the draw of power.

_“Oh stop fucking ruminating,”_ Yennefer snapped impatiently in the back of Obi-Wan’s head. _“They’re on their way up.”_

Not long after the first white and blue armored arm appeared. Obi-Wan and Cody grabbed Echo by the hands and hauled him onto the ledge. Echo manned the third rope while Cody and Obi-Wan took the first two, helping the climbers up onto the ledge. Geralt and Rex came up together as the rearguard. Obi-Wan was a bit worried at how close Rex and the northern witcher were becoming. Geralt had no loyalty to their cause, and the enemy of an enemy made for a poor ally in the long term. Even if he was a ‘brother’.

Still, Geralt had a sword in hand and was peering over at the Redanian camp with the same eager intensity of the rest of the men. He might not have had commando training, but there was nothing but advanced reconnaissance commandos and Jedi here and Geralt was keeping up.

Cody flashed through a series of handsigns indicating Waxer and Boil should swing wide around the enemy camp and remove the other sentries with Geralt to watch their backs. The rest of them would be going tent by tent, removing as many enemies as possible before the whole camp woke up. While throat-cutting missions had been more often assigned to Obi-Wan and his battalion during the war, Rex had inherited a dislike for fighting fair from Cody and passed it down to his troopers in turn.

Obi-Wan and Cody worked together. There was little point in bothering with finicky, draining spells of concealment when practice would serve just as well. It was a lesson Obi-Wan had learned young and honed in war. He wasn’t powerful. He was capable, and hoarding every last scrap of magic meant there was no reason to look for alternatives.

Cody was pinning down a soldier who smelled strong of beer with a hand over his mouth when the first explosion rocked the camp. Obi-Wan quickly rammed his dagger into the soft, unarmored place beneath the arm to pierce the heart. It was followed by a wet crack as Cody nearly twisted the poor wretch’s head off to speed up the process.

“Well, they certainly know we’re here now,” Obi-Wan commented as he unhooked his lightsaber from his belt.

Cody drew his own saber, golden eyes glittering at the promise of true combat. “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Perhaps we should step outside. I’d prefer not to be inside the tent when it catches.” Obi-Wan gestured for Cody to go first. Outside, the camp was lit by a massive, glowing crater where one of the siege weapons had once stood. Now the timber was consumed by tongues of red and yellow fire. From the way it flickered it looked like Fives and Echo had found some pitch barrels. Echo had never been able to resist wholesale destruction of enemy fortifications.

Cody easily dispatched two Redanian soldiers who stumbled out of their tent still pulling on their hose. Obi-Wan ignited his saber and took off the head of a battleaxe before it could bite into his side. The axe wielder stared in bewilderment at his damaged weapon, which was all the time needed for Cody’s thin, razor sharp saber to pass through his neck. The spray of blood across Obi-Wan’s face smelled of iron rather than earth, but it still felt like homecoming.

Utapau might as well have been the day before. Obi-Wan carved them a path to the center of the fighting while Cody covered his back. Fives and Echo, with the help of Waxer and Boil, had backed a large squadron of men with polearms up against the cliff. Echo’s heavy, curved kukri and Fives’ axe were hard at work lopping off spear points while Waxer and Boil used their glaives to keep the two younger troopers from being rushed.

Wooley had claimed one of the raised sentry stands for himself and had brought Cody’s crossbow with him. The crossbow arms were made of enchanted steel alloy strong enough it took a clone’s strength, witcher strength, to rack the bow and reload. The bolts went through plate and mail and came out the other side.

There was another explosion. Rex and Geralt came running pell-mell past the Redanian squadron pinned against the cliff. Geralt stopped long enough to use one of his sigil-spells to knock the front line of defenders back into their brethren. Screams and clatters from the back of the group demonstrated the efficiency of Five and Echo’s plan as the several of the Redanians were forced over the edge of the cliff by their own side.

With Geralt setting himself to cast again, the Redanian’s broke, scattering rather than risking being forced off the cliff edge. With a cry of battlejoy that would have been more suited to Master Koon’s ‘wolfpack’ squadron, Fives and Echo fell on the fleeing men. Geralt circled to join the more methodical Waxer and Boil, who’s glaives were brutally effective now that there were no other polearms for the Redanians to hide behind.

Assured that his scouts weren’t going to be overwhelmed, Obi-Wan turned, flipping his unignited lightsaber in his hand so the heavily weight pommel faced up, and smashed the hilt of his lightsaber directly onto the helmet of a Redanian swordsman. The helmet clanged like a bell, sending the swordsman staggering back completely disoriented, directly onto Rex’s twin daggers.

“General,” Rex barked. “There’s a mage!”

“What!” Obi-Wan had survived years in the north and much of his success had come from staying very far away from Redanians and their Church of the Eternal Fire cult. “They burn mages, not ally with them.”

“Didn’t burn this one.” Geralt ran through a soldier who wasn’t quick enough to bring up his dagger to block. “He’s using concussive spells. Blew me and Rex backwards hard enough to kill one of his own people.”

That made more sense. The mage would be some kind of mercenary or a prisoner who cut a deal. Only a mage unused to fighting beside others would make such a mistake. It was also bad news. A trained combat mage, like the Jedi had been, was limited when their own men engaged in close combat with an enemy, since a spell could splash back onto them. This mage wouldn’t care who he was hurting.

“Captain, have the men scatter…” The order came too late. One of the Redanian officers had managed to organize several squadrons of men in a defensive formation and set the mage in the center.

“And he found the one competant officer in the whole fucking camp,” Geralt added acidly.

“Pull back to Wooley’s position. Bring some of the corpses with you, drop them thirty feet out,” Obi-Wan roared in Mando’a, augmenting his voice with a spell. The space around Wooley’s perch was mostly clear. The men of the former 212th knew what was about to happen and grabbed wall shields as well.

They fell back around the stand Wooley was using to snipe, stolen shields out. Cody broke line to haul one of the Redanian corpses further back. Rex was organizing polearms, both the ones they’d brought with them and the ones they’d picked up, to buy them some time.

Obi-Wan wasn’t particularly strong with magic. He was controlled and well-learned so it wasn’t something most noticed. However, there was one trick he’d always been good at. There was blood running in sticky rivulets between the spikes on his vambraces and gauntlets. Mostly dead blood, luckily.

No matter what anyone said, it wasn’t necromancy. Qui-Gon Jinn might have been padawan to the traitor Dooku, and might have been known as a maverick. But Obi-Wan’s old master had no pity for Jedi who crossed the line from experimentation to dark magic. Master Jinn had never been comfortable with Obi-Wan’s natural affinity for working with blood. Especially when it became clear Obi-Wan had no talent for healing.

Cody took one of the wall shields, setting himself so Obi-Wan could crouch behind him. Obi-Wan grimaced before bringing his gauntlet and gently touching the tip of his tongue to the blood there. It was a simple conversion, energy to energy really, especially with a representative sample to make it easy to target the spell.

The Redanian corpses exploded into flames.

Those Redanian soldiers unlucky enough to be walking over or near one of the burning bodies as the golden fire erupted, which wasn’t fire but a magical reaction, found they couldn’t put the flames out as their armor melted onto them. Dragonfire had just a bit of magic in it, enough that it burned hotter and harder and was difficult to put out.

Geralt was swearing, leaning away from Obi-Wan towards Rex. Anakin’s former captain had known theoretically what Obi-Wan was capable of. But the battlefields where Obi-Wan had been forced to use his inclination had usually been full of unliving golems, not human bodies.

Cody was smiling, radiating dark satisfaction and pride so clearly Obi-Wan didn’t need magic to know it. “General,” he growled, dropping the shield. His eyes were the color of dragonfire as Obi-Wan put a bloody hand on his back. Golden fire burst from the blood splattered on Cody’s armor. Cody drew his sword, flaming in the night, and charged forward with a battlecry.

Obi-Wan followed him, lightsaber glowing blue-white in his hand. Beneath Cody’s armor, the carefully modified reservoir sigil converted the magic stored in it into a shield that would protect Cody from the flames. The alteration, made long ago and far away, meant as long as there were a few drops of Obi-Wan’s magic inside him Cody couldn’t burn.

* * *

Yennefer jerked as the ridge lit up yellow and white. For a moment she was back at Sodden Hill. Kix’s swearing in foreign tongues broke her out of her horrified revere. “I take it that’s not good,” Dandelion asked the medic anxiously, eyeing the suddenly brighter sky.

“That’s very not good if it is what I think,” Jesse said, already saddling the horses. “Milady, could you order those Nilfgaardians to help us?”

“Not anymore.” Yennefer snapped. She tossed aside the blanket Kix had wrapped her in. “Help me onto a horse.”

Kix caught her arms gently. He was scowling but it was easy to read the fear in his eyes. “Lady Yennefer, you’re still injured. I’d prefer…”

Yennefer bit back something harsh. Kix had been nothing but kind to her since she’d been injured and not in the cloying, pitying way she was used to. There was no ‘oh you poor thing’ but ‘I know you can turn me into a frog, however I’m still concerned about how much pain you’re in’. She let herself lean into the medic since she was still feeling unwell. Healing oneself while concussed and bleeding from the gut was more difficult than treating someone else.

“I’d prefer to stay here and drink tea with you as well, Major Kix,” she spoke to the witcher like she might one of Geralt’s brothers. “However, Geralt is up there alone and things seem to have gone horribly wrong yet again.”

Kix’s scowl deepened. “Fine, but you’re riding with me.”

Jesse walked over Roach and held her steady while Kix lifted Yennefer onto the mare’s back. “What are you thinking?” he asked, eyes going back to the ridge.

“Well, I was thinking we send the Nilfgaardians up there to sort things out.” Kix arranged Yennefer’s skirts for her with practiced ease. “Now, I think Lady Yennefer and I go first and assess the situation.”

Jesse didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. “I’ll take Lady Priscilla and Dandelion to the Nilfgaardian camp. Maybe Lady Priscilla can talk them around.”

Dandelion huffed in offense but didn’t protest the slight. His eyes were up on cliffs. He’d known Geralt even longer than Yennefer and often been the better friend. “I will bring him back,” Yennefer promised the bard. “That bastard doesn’t get to die on me again. Not when we’re finally getting somewhere.”

“I know you will.” Dandelion reached up to squeeze her hand as Kix put on his helmet and gathered up one of the spare halberds. “Just bring yourself back as well, Yen.”

“If you don’t, I will write the worst, soppiest lay about your tragic life I can manage,” Priscilla swore, hugging Yennefer’s leg.

The bards moved out of the way so Kix could mount up behind Yennefer. Jesse passed him a halberd that had been hastily modified into a lance. “Don’t you dare,” Yennefer said, hand lingering on Priscilla’s golden hair. “Do whatever you have to get the Nilfgaardians to follow us.”

Kix nodded to Jesse. “I’ll see you up top.”

“Save some for me.” Jesse drew the bards away from Roach as Kix kicked Geralt’s reliable mare to a canter. Used to a rider who could see in the dark, Roach didn’t hesitate to charge down the dark, forest path towards the road that led up the ridge.

Their gallop through the Nilfgaardian camp woke everyone. Yennefer ignored the offended demands to stop, calling back over her shoulder, “Up on the ridge! Look up on the ridge!” Hopefully that would make Priscilla and Dandelion’s pleas more convincing.

Kix wisely let Yennefer handle Roach once they reached the road where the moon provided enough illumination to see ahead. He pressed along her back with the same ease Geralt did, holding her steady but trusting her to lead. Yennefer knew he’d learned this from Lady Padme as well. While she’d recovered, Kix had told her some small things about his past, including his general’s wife.

Lady Padme was still beloved among the witchers in blue armor, along with her sisters, as a warrior in her own right. Kix and Jesse had been personally selected by their general to attend to Lady Padme and her women whenever they followed the army into the field. A role both witchers perceived as high an honor as any medal of valor. Yennefer admitted to being charmed that Kix saw his ability to manage a lady’s hair and Jesse her clothes as skills to be proud of instead of an oblique insult. When they survived this, Yennefer was going to make Geralt sit down and let Kix teach him how to properly condition her hair.

Yennefer reined Roach in as they approached the fortifications the Redanians had placed across the road. There were no soldiers manning the rough barricade. From the screaming further up it was obvious why.

Kix swore in his own language, pointing up at fire on the barricade where it looked like someone had kicked over a brazier. “What?” Yennefer demanded, reaching out and snatching a glance through his eyes for herself. With a witcher’s vision she could see it wasn’t a brazier that was burning coal and twigs but lumps of metal and bone slowly smoldering to nothing. It looked nothing like any of the many burned bodies she’d seen before. From the way the skull was broken it looked the fire had come from the inside out.

“Kenobi,” Kix grated out. “Damn his eyes. If he burned my brothers, I’ll kill him.”

“Kix,” Yennefer said as Roach danced nervously under them responding to Kix’s sudden change in posture. “What did he do?”

“Blood magic,” Kix spat. “He can turn the blood of the freshly dead into fire.”

The freshly dead specifically, which meant Kenobi was using an alchemical spell transforming the energy of life held in the blood to the power of fire. If he could do it to the freshly dead then… “He wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. “That utter hypocrite. Consumed by chaos indeed.”

She extended her hand and tore a hole through the barricade. “If he’s done anything to Geralt or your brothers I’ll hold him down for you, Kix,” Yennefer promised violet eyes blazing as she urged Roach through the gap.

* * *

Geralt wasn’t quite sure why Cody was on fire, but the other witcher didn’t seem to be in pain as he and Kenobi slammed headfirst into the Redanian defenses.

“Echo, Wolf,” Rex ordered, barely audible over the din of battle. Geralt tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Can you take out the enemy mage?”

The Redanians’ mage had finally figured out the most useful thing he could do was put out fires and shield the soldiers around him. As shocking as Kenobi’s impromptu firebombs had been, the officer in charge had recovered quickly. If Cody wasn’t literally melting the weapons swinging for him, he would have already been a pincushion. The enemy mage’s shields had severely limited the witcher’s attempts to catch other Redanian soldiers on fire.

Echo hummed. “I think so. Wolf?”

“I’ve got a couple of dimeritium bombs left.” Geralt reached to his belt and checked they were still there. “That should slow him down long enough for us to use a blade.” He glanced over at Echo. “Circle around?”

Echo nodded. “Exactly.”

Fives knocked his helmet into Echo’s. “Be careful with him, Wolf,” he warned Geralt.

“I will, little brother,” Geralt said and the words came easy. He passed Rex his last sanum bomb. “It’s the one that makes a flash.”

Rex hefted it. “Start running as soon as it goes off.”

Geralt knocked back half a blizzard potion and offered the rest to Echo. “Makes you think faster,” he explained. “Hell of a hangover though.”

“Sounds fun.” Echo drained the vial and handed it back. “Fett’s bones, don’t give Kix the recipe. That’s foul.” Geralt chuckled at his tone.

Then there was a flash of white light. Geralt and Echo sprinted to the side heading for the cover of the remaining tents to hide in the shadows.

* * *

Rex lost Geralt and Echo in the chaos of fire and shadow. Echo was his best tactician and Geralt had enough experience to be a commander himself. If there was a way to take out the damn mage they would find it.

He looked over at where his idiot older brother and his brother’s general were doing their damnedest to buy Rex time to come up with a plan. From the amount of black soot smeared across Cody’s white armor the golden flames that were protecting him were burning themselves out. While impressive and terrifying, the spell that turned Cody into a human torch was short lived.

However, between Cody's ensorcelled armor and Kenobi’s lightsaber, the Redanian had more long sticks than polearms. “Fives, get up with Wooley and start shooting anyone who sticks their nose beyond that shield.” Rex glanced to his sides where Waxer and Boil were waiting steadily with a shield in one hand and glaive held like a spear in the other. “Secure the base of the tower. Give Fives and Wooley clear lines of sight.”

“And you captain?” Waxer asked with just a hint of anxiety.

Rex pulled his daggers. “I’m going after Cody and his idiot general.” If they could keep the Redanians from advancing, the mage might get tired enough for the shield to weaken or even fail. Or Echo and Geralt would gut the fucker.

Kenobi was testing the mage’s shield with his lightsaber and with the sweeping, openhanded punches Rex had seen throw golems across the battlefield. Cody was slicing limbs off any soldier brave (or stupid) enough to cross the barrier and try to take advantage of the openings in Kenobi’s defense. “Nice of you to join the party,” Cody grunted, beheading another spear. “Do we have a plan?”

“Try to pin down these assholes and the mage until the mage passes out or the boys I sent out handle it. Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Wooley are making sure no one gets any bright ideas about regrouping and flanking us.” Most of the remaining Redanians were clustered within the shield. However, most of the scattered groups had broken and run when the corpses of their friends started trying to burn them alive. If they regrouped and came back as an organized force it would end the fight quickly.

Kenobi paused to sniff the air. He blinked, severing a sword blade with no thought, then shouted. “Fall back! Magic! Fall back!”

Out of a clear, starry sky a bolt of purple lightning streaked down down to shatter against the greenish glow of the enemy mage’s shield. The crack was deafening. For a moment there was dead silence. Then a woman’s voice rose speaking in tongues. Lady Yennefer, supported by Kix, marched up from the direction of the road through the pass, behind the Redanian phalanx. Lightning danced between her fingers and across her hair as she brought her hand down, pulling more lightning out of an empty sky.

“Kenobi!” She screamed in the silence afterwards. “You fucking bastard! Bring it down!”

Hanging his lightsaber from his belt, Kenobi reached out for the green barrier. His hands, arms, and armor flamed bright white as his fingers scrambled across the surface like a climber looking for a handhold. Lady Yennefer yelled again. Ice crackled across the barrier’s other side.

“Got it!” Kenobi bellowed back. There was unlit space between his fingers where he’d tugged the barrier apart. As Rex stared the flames around Kenobi’s hands flickered higher, making the air shimmer with heat as he strained. “Get ready, Cody,” he ordered through gritted teeth. Rex nodded to Cody and prepared to charge through the gap when it was wide enough.

The shield flashed emerald. Kenobi said a very bad word in Mando’a then flew backwards as the barrier snapped shut. As it did, lightning stuck it again. For a moment the shield vanished. Rex hesitated a heartbeat too long and rammed face first into the thing as it sprang back to life.

It didn’t matter. They had been the distraction. Kix had a short-shafted spear in his hands and charged through the spaces in the neatly arranged Redanian columns with the speed only a brother could manage. Behind him, Echo and Geralt followed, hurling bombs to clear Kix a path.

Rex’s voice caught in his throat when he saw the Redanian officer anticipating Kix’s charge and bringing up his sword at neck height. Kix dropped to the ground, rolling under the swing and coming out with his spear extended in one hand. The tip of the spear went through the enemy mage’s stomach.

Gripping the spear in both hands, Kix flipped the mage to the ground, using the momentum to get himself back to his feet. In a smooth motion he drew the short sword hung over his shoulder and beheaded the mage. The shield vanished. One of Fives’ arrows sprouted from the Redanian officer’s throat. Geralt and Echo had been maintaining a clear path for Kix to retreat to. Lady Yennefer was nowhere to be seen.

“Rex!” Cody shouted. He had his general slung over his shoulder. “Fall back. Calvary!” He pointed at the edge of the cliff where the road up to the pass was visible. Two more horses were visible, charging up the road. The Nilfgaardian banner flowed behind them with only the gold sections visible in the dark. From the white armor on the rider, Jesse was carrying the banner. Behind them torches indicated the black armored line of Nilfgaardian cavalry following them.

As the riders drew closer, the noise resolved itself to Dandelion’s shouting over the Nilfgaardians, “Nilfgaard! Nilfgaard for Emrys and the Jedi!”

Rex raised his daggers and roared back. “Nilfgaard and the Jedi!” His brothers took up the cry. Turning back to the Redanian soldiers in front of him he grinned. “You’re fucked now,” he informed them in Mando’a. He was fairly sure they understood the meaning if not the words.

The Nilfgaardian cavalry made quick work of the remaining Redanian squadrons. After the cavalry came squads of fresh infantrymen to make sure the soldiers who had run didn’t regroup to save their fellows. The brothers were left to finish off the Redanians who were too badly injured for medics. Kenobi was conscious again, if not completely aware. Lady Yennefer had been bundled up onto an officer’s camp bed which Geralt had dragged next to one the cooking fires so Kix had light to work.

Jesse rode up to Rex, bare faced with a shit-eating grin. Besides the banner, he also held a bloody Nilfgaardian cavalry saber. “Sorry we’re late, sir. The Nilfgaardians aren’t night fighters apparently.”

Dandelion and Priscilla rode behind him on the remaining pack horses. “Captain,” Priscilla said urgently, “we didn’t exactly ask them for help.”

“No. You stole our banner and my sword,” one of the Nilfgaardian knights on a beautiful gray charger said in heavily accented Nordling. He pulled off his gilt-edged helmet to reveal a handsome, dark-skin face and short, wiry salt and pepper hair. He looked around wryly. “Are you the commanding officer, Captain?”

“We’re two units,” Rex said to delay. “Let me get my brother.” He waved Cody over. “This is Cody and I’m Rex. The soldiers in white armor are ours.”

“Tavar aep Dahy, colonel of the banner charged with holding the outpost defending this pass.” He looked at Cody and Rex skeptically. “This is all your men?”

“They’re witchers, colonel,” Geralt said wryly where he was laying on a bench so Kix could check his stitches.

aep Dahy started slightly. “There are witchers who choose to be soldiers?” He shook his head. “Well, the world is a wondrous place indeed. No offense, Sir Geralt, you and the Heir are warriors of legend.”

Geralt gave a low, hoarse chuckle. “But not soldiers.”

“No. You are not that.” aep Dahy looked at the decimated Redanian camp. Most of the tents were on fire and there were bodies and discarded weapons everywhere. “You are not Temerarian?’

Rex looked over at Geralt in concern when the man made a horrified, choking noise. “No, colonel.” Cody’s reply was polite and smooth as Kenobi. “We are from a place very far from here. The government we were sworn to defend no longer exists. We are traveling to collect those who were once in our charge to better protect them from new political elements.”

“Bah, politics. Politics is what killed my uncle,” aep Dahy said dismissively. “Stealing a banner touched by the hand of the Emperor himself, however, is a charge of treason.” Both Cody and Rex reached for weapons. “Considering,” aep Dahy continued with a hint of a smile, “the banner wasn’t stolen so much as… forcefully carried to victory against rebel nordlings in the name of our glorious empire I think we can overlook it this time. Especially as it was at the request of the empress-to-be’s beloved foster parents.”

Jesse looked at Rex, not completely understanding what the Nilfgaardian was implying. “He’s not going to hang you, but you aren’t getting any medals either,” Rex said in the northern tongue. “Because Lady Yennefer and Geralt are friends with the princess.”

“In my defense,” Jesse said cheerfully, “it was Lady Priscilla’s idea.” He extended the banner to aep Dahy, careful that it didn’t touch the ground. “Thank you for the loan, sir.”

“And my sword,” aep Dahy said once he’d secured the banner.

More reluctantly, Jesse handed the blade over. “It’s a lovely sword, sir. If you’d consider parting with it…” aep Dahy gave him a look that was almost as cutting as Rex’s command glare. “A brother can hope.” Jesse gave a philosophical shrug.

“I thank the Great Sun he is your problem,” aep Dahy informed Rex and Cody. He sighed heavily. “Though I regret to ask this of you, it would be best if you kept moving. While I will be able to smooth things over in my reports, many of my men feel very foolish right now.”

Cody nodded, reaching up as if to rub his temples before letting his hand drop. “I’ll send some of my men to gather up the supplies we left behind. We’ll be ready to move as soon as our medic finishes tending to the injured.”

aep Dahy inclined his head. “I appreciate your haste.”

“Jesse,” Rex said in the most pleasant tone he could manage, “get your ass back to camp with the bards, load up your horses, and walk them back.”

“Sir!” Jesse protested. “It worked. Everyone’s alive!”

Rex bared his teeth beneath his helmet. “And if the Nilfgaardian officer hadn’t been a reasonable man it would have been a massacre. Supplies. Now.”

“Chin up.” Lady Priscilla reached around Dandelion to pat Jesse’s arm. “It’s not that bad of a walk.”

“And since it was Lady Priscilla’s idea that saved us, you can carry her when she gets tired of walking,” Rex added enjoying Jesse’s groan. With that problem sorted, he moved over to check in with Kix. “Report?”

The medic elbowed Geralt. “This one popped his stitches but I’ve closed him back up again. I had to reattach Wooley’s finger. Cody’s crossbow is a hazard. The rest a little bacta salve and some potions will fix.” He finished pulling out Geralt’s stitches and smeared a thick layer of sweet-smelling bacta salve over the wound. “You’re done.”

“And the Jedi?” Rex asked, lowering his voice and speaking in Mando’a.

Kix gestured at Lady Yennefer. “She’s just exhausted. I’ve cleaned her up. Once Geralt’s settled, he’ll be able to ride with her.”

On the bench on the other side of the fire, Cody was running a wet rag across his general’s face to clean off soot. “And General Kenobi?” Rex asked peering over Kix’s shoulder as the medic stowed his tools.

Kix went tense. “I haven’t examined him.”

“Why the fuck not, Major?” Rex demanded, praying Cody hadn’t heard Kix.

“You saw what he did,” Kix said, lowering his voice to make sure none of their brothers overheard. “Blood to fire. It’s a fucking abomination.”

“Dead blood to fire,” Rex replied, matching Kix’s volume. “It’s not dark magic. The Jedi Council never forbade blood magic as a whole. I don’t like it, but Kenobi uses it on Cody. He wouldn’t if it could hurt him.”

Kix rested his hands on either side of his kit. “Captain, did you ever wonder why Cody was always so specific about ‘freshly’ dead bodies when Kenobi needed to burn something down?”

Rex’s general hadn’t been one for advanced magical theory. So neither was Rex. “Explain it to me, Kix.”

“The blood needs to be fresh so there’s still some life in it. Kenobi setting corpses on fire is more difficult than the obvious application,” Kix said impatiently.

“Oh.” Rex breathed out, grateful for Kix’s discretion. Being burned alive by your own blood sounded like a messy way to go. It sounded Sith. “But he’s never… He’s always been very specific, dead blood only. Even Cody’s fire-swallower impression is just Kenobi burning the dead blood already on him.”

Kix looked over his shoulder at Rex. “At Mustafar, General Skywalker cast a spell on Lady Padme. I couldn’t think straight or I would have said something. It was killing her, Rex. When General Kenobi tried to stop the ritual, General Skywalker attacked him. You knew how they were.” Rex nodded. The two best duelists in the Jedi Order, the two canniest officers in the Grand Army of the Republic, two of the most accomplished mages on the entire continent. It would have been like an earthquake fighting a hurricane. “General Skywalker kept driving General Kenobi away from the ritual circle. I don’t know how it happened, but Kenobi got in a punch with one of those fucking razor-tooth gauntlets of his. Enough blood to get some in his mouth.”

And General Skywalker had burned like the golems at Felucia and Christophsis, like the Redanian dead as their compatriots tried to overwhelm the brothers’ defenses. “General Kenobi killed him?” Rex barely got out around the lump in his throat.

“Of course not,” Kix scoffed, “I was there, and I wasn’t going to let a damn traitor kill our general. I managed to get a potion down General Skywalker, enough he could put out the flames himself. By the time I had him stable, Kenobi and Lady Padme were gone. The Emperor’s doctors took the general from me not long after. I don't know what happened from there.”

Kix was lying. That was okay because Rex’s brain was finally working again. “Vader.” Kix shrugged. “Kix…”

“Vader ordered me to keep my mouth shut.” He said ‘ordered’ with a flick of his fingers towards his temple. “I didn’t realize I could talk about it again until I saw the bodies smoldering” Kix finished packing his things. “Now that I can think straight again, I know Kenobi's a Jedi, and he only did it for Lady Padme. But… The general was screaming Rex. He was screaming and burning and Kenobi turned his back and walked away. It was just me and my kit trying to keep all of General Skywalker’s skin from bubbling off. Maybe Kenobi was doing it for the right reasons, but I can’t forget.”

Rex turned Kix around so they could press their foreheads together. “Thank you for trusting me, brother.” No wonder Kenobi hadn’t told anyone who Vader was. Rex wasn’t even sure what to think. Kix didn’t shake easily and seeing how purposefully he moved to avoid trembling made Rex’s stomach drop. “We’ll ask Lady Padme. She loves… loved the general. She’ll know why.” That was what everyone would want to know. Why would General Kenobi burn the man who was his little brother, as Fives was Rex’s? “Lady Padme must have agreed, or Kenobi wouldn’t be here. That’s fact. So if we ask, she’ll be able to explain.”

“Good. Because I’m getting fucking tired of not talking about it.” Kix finished packing up his kit. “Kenobi’s not that badly injured. He’ll be fine.” He looked at Rex for permission, though Kix had never needed anyone’s permission to treat a patient before. In the years Kix had been Torrent’s medic, he had never asked permission not to treat someone.

Rex glanced over at Cody, who was helping Kenobi sit up and giving the Jedi small sips of water. If Kenobi had required Kix’s services, Cody would have said something. “You’ll need to check him over later to be sure.”

Kix nodded. “Okay. Later. That’s fine.”

Rex clasped his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure he washes up first if it makes it easier. He won’t mind.”

“Yeah. That'd be better.” Kix turned to tidy up the pile of bloody bandages he’d gathered. Rex left him to it. They did have another country to cross. The sooner they left the larger the distance between them and whoever Vader would send to investigate the battle.

* * *

Obi-Wan hadn’t been back to Nilfgaard since he’d left Padme at a hostel to recover from the twins birth, attended to by Ahsoka, and Sabe, the only one of her handmaidens to survive Anakin. The Golden City had only flourished under the steely fist of its emperor. Emhyr var Emeris had conquered north then returned home with his daughter and heir to conquer his remaining domestic opposition.

Not that Padme had been inconvenienced by something as banal as political upheaval. She and Sabe had taken jobs as clerks with a minor trade corporation the last Obi-Wan had heard from them. With Obi-Wan acting as a distraction in the war-torn north, there had been no safe way to make contact. Though Obi-Wan hoped Padme kept the amulet that was a twin to the one Obi-Wan had tucked away among the remaining artifacts of his former life. Her pendant had once belonged to Anakin. Obi-Wan had created the amulets so that he and his apprentice could locate each other across long distances without alerting other mages. He’d hidden his amulet in one of his compression tokens, prepared to toss it away rather than have it fall into Vader’s hands.

Now he led as he held it up, leading his mismatched party through the streets of Nilfgaard of the Golden Towers. The sun blazed down with properly dry heat which felt almost like home. Most of the brothers had taken off their helmets but left up the masks that covered the lower parts of their faces. Lady Yennefer was taking advantage of Kix’s permission for gentle exercise to walk alongside Geralt’s horse. Her badly damaged clothing had been replaced by a spare trooper’s gambison and leggings, cut down to fit with a few pieces of spare white plate on top and a split skirt made of the white cotton Kix used for bandages. It was a very Jedi look though no one was brave enough to mention it to her.

Geralt walked at her side, golden eyes watching the crowds. He’d finally given in and accepted a spare breast and backplate to wear over his lighter, padded leather jacket ,as well as a gorget of chainmail padded with black silk. With the mask up over his nose and mouth he could have been one of the troopers.

Priscilla and Dandelion were still sharing a horse, though Wooley was leading their mount as the two bards worked on composing a song about the battle of the pass. Luckily most of their lyrics focused on the courage and martial skill of the witchers involved and the lightning called down by Lady Yennefer than anything else that happened.

There had been startling few questions about exactly what Obi-Wan had done. The interrogation he’d expected from Lady Yennefer had been preceded by a conversation between the sorceress and Captain Rex which no one else had been privy to. When she’d come over to speak to Obi-Wan afterwards her questions had been mostly academic.

Cody gently tugged Obi-Wan’s mount to a halt as the medallion started to thrum. Obi-Wan swung his leg stiffly over the saddle and slid to the ground. They were stopped in front of one of the grand houses on a side road where most of the merchants sold little luxuries like spices, silks, and perfume. A pair of tall double doors, just wide enough for a small carriage to pass through comfortably, stood locked shut.

Obi-Wan stared for a moment before finally seeing the great brass knocker. He swung it three times against the plate to knock. There were muffled voices from the courtyard followed by feminine laughter.

One of the doors swung open revealing a small, dark-haired elven woman in an elegant but understated black gown. Her head was bare. Obi-Wan sank down to one knee. At his side, Cody did the same then dropped down to both knees, forehead touching the stones of road. There was clatter as all the troopers followed suit.

“Obi-Wan,” the woman said, shocked. “Captain Rex?”

Obi-Wan raised his head. “A long story, milady. However, our men have returned to us. Captain Rex and Commander Cody have come to rejoin your forces.”

The woman’s dark eyes darted over to the strangers. Obi-Wan forced himself to stand. “My lady, may I present Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg. Sir Geralt of Rivia. And the bards Priscilla and Dandelion who are their companions.” He gave a weary smile. “Please bow. You stand before Queen Amidala, first of her name, democratically-declared ruler of Naboo, Protectoress of Chommel, Duchess of Theed, Senator of the Republic, Champion of the Open Circle Forces, and mother to heirs of the new empire.”

The woman cleared her throat with a kind, if confused smile. “All true. Though among those you travel with, strangers, I’m best known as Lady Padme,” she said in the musical tones of a full-blooded _Aen Sidhe._ “Please use it. My formal titles have little meaning anymore.” She looked them over then sighed. “Boys, get off your knees and come inside. I’ll send a message to the kitchen to cook everything they can get their hands on. Lady Yennefer, Sir Geralt, you and your friends are most welcome at my table. I imagine we have much to speak of.”

Obi-Wan waited for her to acknowledge him, unsure if she would. Padme reached up and cradled his face between her soft, cool palms. In the tongue of Nubian elves she greeted him. “Welcome home, my brother. The road has been cruel to keep us apart so long.”

“My heart has wept to dream of you, my sister,” Obi-Wan answered to finish the ritual. “Now it sings.” He closed his eyes as she flung her arms around him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Brothers to Wolves [ARTWORK]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989414) by [Hero_Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hero_Thief/pseuds/Hero_Thief)




End file.
